Amor Fati FAM Zorro
by icyfire
Summary: AU; What if Diego had been the child taken by Ynez Resendo? Would Gilberto be the Zorro that Diego had been? Would Diego be the Emissary that Gilberto was? And what about Victoria? How would she feel?
1. The Arrival

The people of Los Angeles whispered among themselves that the alcalde's anxiety was driving them loco

Title:  Amor Fati (What's it mean?  I have no idea.  Loved the name from an episode of the X-Files, and I had been told that it meant "Love of Fate".  Then, I heard it didn't.  Now, I haven't a clue.  "Love of Fate" fits the story.)

Rated PG-13 for "off-camera" sex and some adult themes.

Disclaimers:  I have never engaged in ownership or money making of these characters in any form.  I simply use them for my own amusement and then return them to their rightful owners unharmed.  

I used **huge** chunks of dialogue from the four episodes that make up "Conspiracy of Blood". I sometimes put them in a different mouth--especially Diego's and Gilberto's dialogue--than the original writers, Robert L. McCullough and Phillip John Taylor, but the words are theirs. I am not trying to claim them. Hopefully, I was faithful in copying them. If not, I apologize.

Author's Notes:  Some friends of mine invited me to take part in their round robin.  I did, and I wrote one line that stayed with me and became this story.  It took some work; I had to rewrite the entire series in my head.

And, yes, I do know the names would have been different, but that would have overtaxed my already taxed out brain.  The readers', too, or so I believe.

The last note:  This is an extensive rewrite of the last four episodes of the show.  If anyone would like a written summary of that show as it happened--available to buy on videotape--please email me.  I would be glad to send it.

****

The people of Los Angeles whispered among themselves that the _alcalde's _anxiety was driving them _loco.  _He almost twitched because of his nervousness.  The slightest misstep by one of his lancers received a crushing sit down.  Victoria told everyone at the tavern that she felt sorry for poor Mendoza, the usual recipient of DeSoto's outbursts.  Royal Emissary Resendo's arrival in the morning--and quick departure--would bring relief to all of the citizens and lancers of the _pueblo_, but especially for Mendoza.

"I want," the _alcalde_ snapped as he dusted a spotless bookcase. "All of the lancers to be ready for inspection by five o'clock."

"Five? In the morning?" Mendoza squeaked.  His voice always squealed when he was surprised or nervous.  The glare he received from the _alcalde_, the one causing him to stand up straighter, answered him.  Pulling down on his jacket, Mendoza proudly proclaimed, "_Sí_, _Mi_ _Alcalde_, the lancers will be ready."

"Good," DeSoto replied.  Slowly turning, he looked over his office with a critical eye.  As usual, everything was in its proper place.  DeSoto's office was his refuge from the horrors of life in this godforsaken _pueblo_.  Even Zorro never dared to enter it.  "I want everything to be perfect."

"Relax, Ignacio," came an amused voice from the doorway.  DeSoto turned, squinting into the sunlight streaming through the door.  The dark shadow walked further into the room, closing the door behind it.  "From what I've seen, there isn't a speck of dust in all of Los Angeles!  Why, even the streets are bare of it."

Laughing, DeSoto walked towards his friend.  He noticed that Mendoza looked at Don Alejandro's son as he pulled at his collar apprehensively.  It amused the _alcalde_ to no end that Mendoza always managed to pale at the mere sight of the de la Vega heir.  Personally, he felt that his friendship with de la Vega was the one bright spot of this otherwise dismal assignment.  Even while the man standing in front of him had been an underclassman--a mere freshman--he had impressed DeSoto, a senior.  The two men formed a tight bond in Madrid, and the renewal of that friendship made DeSoto's assignment to Los Angles almost worth it.

Sitting down behind his desk, DeSoto waved for Mendoza to leave and for his friend to sit.  "Would you care for something to drink or smoke, _amigo_?"

"Yes, I believe I would like one of your fine cigars," replied de la Vega.  DeSoto smiled as his friend lit the excellent tobacco.  The de la Vega heir was known for his refined taste in cigars and wine, as well as women.

"Tell me," said his friend pleasantly, leaning back in his chair to blow smoke rings into the air.  "What's the emissary like?"  
  


"Well," DeSoto began, his voice a little higher and shakier than normal.  "I've never met Emissary Resendo, but I've heard of him.  He's an amazing soldier, very trusted by the King.  It's said that if the King wants a job done right, he sends Resendo."

De la Vega laughed.  "Ah, so now I understand the reason for your apprehension.  Why is such an important man coming to our little hole in the wall?"  
  


Suddenly, the door slung open.  "Why, I'm here to collect taxes, of course.  I'm sure the King told you about it, _Alcalde_ DeSoto, in his correspondence."

DeSoto stood, staring at the man standing proudly in the doorway.  He was tall--well over six feet--and handsome.  There was a small scare on his temple, but instead of detracting, it added to his beauty.  He was also in perfect physical health, if a person could tell by appearances alone.  He looked as if he could easily run circles around all of the lancers under DeSoto's command.

Beginning to smile and hold out his hand, DeSoto finally noticed the man's eyes.  They were an ice blue--so cold that they could freeze a man in a single moment.  Despite the above-normal temperatures, DeSoto found himself shivering under the emissary's gaze.  Diego Resendo had arrived a full day early, and DeSoto knew in his bones that life was never again going to be the same in Los Angeles.


	2. Meeting her

"Emissary, what a pleasant surprise

"Emissary, what a pleasant surprise!  W-we were expecting you to arrive by coach tomorrow.  W-we had a welcome all planned."  DeSoto knew he was stuttering in his nervousness, but he was unable to help himself.  He had heard the whispered stories about the man standing before him, and Resendo's presence gave him the feeling that the tales were not exaggerated hearsay.

"A very proper welcome to your _charming_ little _pueblo_, I'm sure."  The emissary's voice was smooth and his accent revealed him to be a _caballero_.  His words were supposed to be mocking, but DeSoto had the impression that, for whatever reason, Los Angels actually charmed Resendo.  DeSoto shook his head slightly in an effort to clear it.  What man, raised in the beauty of Madrid, would find the horrible wilderness enchanting?

"Yes, we had a band and--" DeSoto forced himself to speak more calmly.  He despised weakness, and he refused to reveal more to the man standing in front of him than he already had.  Resendo was the type of man who would use any failing against his enemy, and the _alcalde_ sensed that the man saw him that way.

Resendo moved his hand across the air in a gesture that had long meant stop.  "I don't need bands, _Alcalde_.  I need tax money.  Let's go meet your delightful little citizens, shall we?"

DeSoto lips thinned.  The words were said as a request, but he understood they were an order.  Gilberto took a step forward to introduce himself, but the emissary turned and left, expecting DeSoto to follow him.  Looking over at his friend, DeSoto was pleased to see an expression of anger on his face.  With Gilberto on his side, he might be able to get _Don_ Alejandro there, too, which would unite the _pueblo_ behind him.

***

Diego stood in the plaza a moment, gathering his thoughts.  The _alcalde_ was slowly making his way over to him, followed by the imbecile that had been in his office.  Why Diego had not liked the _caballero_ on sight he could not say, but he knew he had good instincts about men, instincts that were seldom wrong.

He managed to keep his face poker stiff, but he admitted there was something about Los Angeles that made his blood sing.  It was like he was home.  After all the years of searching, he had finally found his home.  _I'm here, Mother_, he thought.  _I am in Los Angeles, just as you planned._

__

"Where do most of your people spend the day when in the _pueblo_?" he asked when the _alcalde_ finally stopped beside him.  He kept his voice light, with just a hint of mocking in it.  He could read DeSoto like an open book.  The man craved respect like an opium addict lusted for a tincture of his drug.  Diego's lack of respect, without being disrespectful, would drive the other man _loco_.  The emissary would admit to only a few people how much he looked forward to the show.

"The tavern," DeSoto answered with only a hint of rage in his voice.  Maybe the _alcalde _would explode even faster than Diego had thought.  He felt a moment of sympathy for the poor people who had to live under the man's rule.  DeSoto would not be a fair or kind leader, more worried about the cut of his coat than the pain of his citizens.

Diego noticed the building immediately.  It was hard to miss.  As it was in many tiny _pueblos_ that he had visited, the tavern was the largest building.  Los Angeles's had "Victoria's" washed in large red letters on the front.  A woman tavern owner in the territories?  Unlike Madrid, Diego was fairly certain that it was not dueling as the local brothel.  Small _pueblos_ usually frowned on such activity, and the ladies made sure that their men ran the women away.  He would have to ask Julian about her later.

He marched over to his destination, and allowed himself a small grin at the anger he felt radiating off from the _alcalde_ behind him.  The man was not used to being treated as an inferior by anyone.  Diego stepped through the doors of the tavern and stopped in his tracks.

She was beautiful.  Her hair was pulled away from her face, so he could see a gleam of sweat on her brow.  She wore a simple yellow top and red skirt, free of any embellishments.  Diego thought, seeing the crowd gathered inside the room, their absence was caused more by the lack of practicality than a lack of money to buy them.  He found himself wishing she had a simpler life, one that allowed for her to wear the finery that would pale next to her magnificence.

Diego Resendo had wooed some of the loveliest women at Court.  His face had been caressed by some of the softest hands, and his lips kissed by some of the most wanted lips in the world.  However, he had never felt like he did at this moment.  He had found her.  In this _pueblo_ that was in his blood, he found the part of himself that was missing.

DeSoto ran into his back, forcing him out of the spell that she had cast.  Who was this woman?  Diego took a deep breath, and ordered himself to think realistically.  She was obviously a peasant, and whatever he was feeling was more likely lust than love.  Once he began to know her, she would begin to bore him like all women did, and then he would laugh at his own foolishness.

She stopped in the middle of laughing at something a sergeant was saying to her, obviously sensing his eyes on her, and looked up at him.  When her eyes meet his, Diego again felt his heart beating faster.  What was wrong with him?  In his agitation, he lost control of his tone.  It came out far more hateful than he intended.  "Do you have an empty room, barmaid?"

The beauty stiffened at his tone.  He admitted to himself that she was even lovelier with her eyes flashing in anger.  He read the message she was sending him as clear as a bell, and he wished he could tell her that he had been to hell many times since his birth.  He even opened his mouth to say so before getting himself under control.  Besides his uncle and Julian, no one knew the secrets in his past, and he was not about to begin sharing them with a peasant in front of roomful of strangers.

Her words dripped with scorn.  "Yes, _Señor_, I have rooms."

He lifted his brow in surprise.  "You are Victoria?"  She angrily nodded before turning away from him.  From what he knew about the wealth of Los Angeles, and by the large crowd that was sitting at her tables, he was certain that she was relatively prosperous for the area.  He doubted that she needed to be the one that worked so hard, and she could definitely dress in finer clothes.  She had managed to fascinate him even more.  He hoped that Julian knew something about her.

She was behind the bar before she spoke to him again.   She managed to hide her anger well, showing the years of practice that she had dealing with customers.  "How long will you be staying, _Señor_?"

"I'm not sure.  I will be here however long it takes to collect the tax, I suppose."  Diego's voice once again had the slight mocking lilt to it.  For once, it was forced.

"Tax?  What tax?"  He heard the Sergeant stand to attention.  The man realized who he was, even if the others were still in denial.

"Why, the special war tax, of course.  Just because you are so distant from home does not excuse you from your obligations to the Crown."  Diego almost smiled when her chin lifted, preparing for fight.  Most people became frightened when they knew who he was and what he wanted.  The little spitfire was about to go where most would say angels feared to tread.

"Taxes?  We pay our taxes!  On our homes, our business, our crops--we pay taxes on everything!"  Diego could feel every eye in the tavern on them.  Victoria appeared not to notice, as if she were used to being the center of attention.  How many times had the men of this community let her fight their battle for them?  Finally able to find something to dislike about the place, he realized he was still captivated by this community.  He would have to give himself time.  Like women, places bored him quickly.

"Now, you will pay a special 10,000 _peso_ war tax," he answered her.  The crowd gasped in surprise.  Diego understood their shock, having thought the amount to be ridiculously high himself, but he had been unable to talk the King out of it.  The sum had excited his mother, since it would aid them in her plan.  

Diego had found himself praying for the poor farmers.  He understood why the King was so desperate for money, but he wished it were different.  The way the war was going, Spain would surely lose.  The tax money would only benefit some cannon makers.

"Ten-thousand _pesos_?  To wage a war that will only benefit you and some cannon makers?"  Diego stared at her, stunned to hear his own words echoed back to him.  They were thoughts that _he_ would never dare to utter, but this lovely beauty had the courage to say what most only thought.

Diego sensed a man stepping out of the crowd, but he could not take his eyes off of Victoria long enough to see whom it was.  He recognized the pistol that was aimed beside his face however.  Julian was calmly aiming it at Victoria's heart, ignoring the murmurs of the crowd.  "_Señor_ Hidalgo," he heard the _alcalde_ begin to protest.

"Lieutenant."  Diego's voice sounded thick to his own ears.

"Beg your pardon?"  Diego thought the man should be begging everyone in Los Angeles' pardon.  The man was incompetent as well as arrogant.

"His name is Lieutenant Hidalgo, Major.  Don't forget that again," he snapped.  

"Of course," DeSoto said through his teeth.  It was a ridiculous reprimand, since Diego had sent his companion ahead incognito, but he had known how the _alcalde_ would react to it.  Unfortunately, his mind was too occupied to enjoy the result.

The man who had been in the _alcalde_'s office earlier stood in front of Victoria.  "I must apologize for the _señorita_.  She's a modern woman--a bit argumentative, perhaps, fiercely loyal nonetheless."  Diego kept his eyes focused on the woman before him, even though the voice reminded him of someone.  He wanted to grin when he saw the look of pure venom that his Victoria shot the man.  _His_ Victoria?  He would definitely need to be spending a lot of time with her soon.

The handsome man in front of him stiffened in anger.  Diego realized that he had some feelings for the _señorita_ himself, and did not care for the emissary's desire.  "It is a shame that the war with France goes poorly."

At those words, Diego did not feel the same respect for the man that he had felt for Victoria.  She spoke out on conviction and belief, but the fool in front of him was speaking out of jealousy, thinking he could take Diego on in a battle of wits.  Well, he would learn soon enough that Emissary Resendo was known to be quicker and faster with his wit than he was with his sword, and his skill with the blade was legendary.

"We are close to victory," he lied without even blinking.  

"Interesting, you should say so.  I have a friend--a Captain--who wrote that his men are putting down their arms in despair.  He should know--he's on the front lines instead of in the territory collecting taxes."  Diego barely kept from rolling his eyes.  He was long past the days when he had to have everyone believe him to be the hero.  He had seen enough fighting to know the horrors of the front line, and he had no desire to be there now.  He suspected the man in front of him would be the type of man who would be bothered by the insult if he had been in Diego's shoes.

"What is the name of the Captain?"  He asked more out of boredom than a real need to know.  He wanted to go to his room, think about the vixen who was already haunting him, and get his feelings straightened out before the rough times started.  He would soon be meeting his father and brother, and he wanted to be in top form.

"His name really doesn't matter."  The man's tone aimed for mocking, but Diego found it merely annoying.  He ordered Julian to throw the man in jail, knowing it would make him feel far more important than he was.  However, he had no desire to mess with him for the rest of the day.  Later, maybe he would be able to derive some amusement from it.

As Julian led the man away, Diego turned to look at the _alcalde_.  "My other assignment, which you were not privy to, is to evaluate you.  I can already tell you from what Julian has reported this last week, you are a disgrace to that uniform.  I'll give you one week, _Alcalde_ DeSoto, to capture Zorro.  If he has not been caught in that time, I will personally see to it that you are taken back to Madrid in chains and hauled through the streets as a prime example of an incompetence."

He did manage to find some pleasure in the man's loss of color, but he was too tense to fully appreciate the effect his threat had on the man.  He wished Julian were here so that he could ask him about Victoria.  Then, he could hear about the brother he wanted to meet and the father he planned to destroy.

He turned to go to his room when an older _caballero_ stepped in front of him.  Diego stopped, respecting the courage and honor that was plain on the man's face.  He felt an immediate kinship with this man, and hoped that they could be friends.  With any luck, the honorable _caballero_ was not a friend of _Don_ Alejandro's.  "It is my son that you have in your jail."

Diego almost groaned.  He slowly walked past the man, not as a sign of disrespect, but because he did not want to look into the man's eyes.  Such an honorable person should not be saddled with a half-wit for a son.  "Then, you should teach him to keep his mouth shut."  Not for the first time, he hated the survival instincts that kept him alive over the years.  He learned early in life to land the first punch--physical, mental, or emotional--before the enemy managed to gather its strength.  Unfortunately, the instinct took over sometimes when he did not want to hurt the other person.

"De la Vegas always speak out!"  Diego froze at those words.  De la Vegas . . . De la Vegas always speak out.  He slowly turned to face the man that was probably his father.  _Julian, where are you!  I need you, amigo_, he thought.  He was not prepared to meet this man, yet.  Especially right now when his feelings were in turmoil over Victoria--the idiot was his brother?  Maybe he was just being too harsh on him.  He would probably get to like him after he got to know him.  His instincts were definitely off kilter if he thought _Don_ Alejandro was an honorable man.

"And you are?"  He knew the answer in his heart, but he wanted to hear it said aloud.

"I am _Don_ Alejandro Sebastian de la Vega--friend to the royal family, perhaps even you have heard of me?"  The man said proudly.  Diego wanted to think of it as arrogance, but he found himself unable to do so.

He nodded.  It took all the strength he had left in him not to demand answers to the questions that haunted him for a lifetime; so many whys asked so many times.  "Oh, yes, _Señor_.  I've heard of you.  I have most certainly heard of you."

Father and son stared at each other for a moment.  Fortunately, Julian came back into the tavern then.  Diego knew from Julian's response that the man had read his face and not liked what he saw.  He just hoped that no one else had been able to see his weaknesses.

"_Señorita _Victoria!  The Emissary will be staying in the room adjoining mine," his friend and confidant snapped.  "_Alcalde_, some royal guardsman will be here any minute.  Prepare to make them comfortable in the _cuartel_.  Emissary Resendo will be freshening up in my room as you prepare his, _Señorita_."

Everyone moved quickly to follow Julian's bidding.  Diego limply followed him up the stairs, emotionally drained by the extremes he experienced today.  In Julian's room, he sighed and lay heavily on the bed.  Julian smiled over at him, pouring them each a glass of wine.  "So, you've met your father."

"Yes," Diego sighed.  

"He's not what you expected and neither is Gilberto."  Juan handed him a glass of wine, concern prevalent in his eyes.  Diego looked down at the liquid and drank it quickly.  Handing the glass back to his friend, he lay back again on the bed.  He did not want to talk about the de la Vegas right now.  He wanted to focus on the woman, the witch that had cast a spell over him.  The de la Vegas would be dealt with later, after he had built back his defenses.

"Victoria--" he began, unsure what to say or ask.

Julian laughed and sat in the only chair in the room.  "Yes, I noticed your preoccupation with her.  I've never seen you act that way towards a woman."  His words pricked at his companion like he knew they would--Julian knew him too well for the words to be accidental.  Diego shifted uncomfortably on the bed.  He was not in the mood to talk about his churning emotions.  He wanted to know everything there was to know about her.  The sooner he knew her, the sooner she could bore him.

"I'd be careful with that one, my friend."  Diego tensed, hearing a warning in the tone and the words.  Was she known for stealing men's hearts?  Julian's next words knocked the breath out of him.  "They say she is a murderer."


	3. The Discussion

Diego sat straight up on the bed

Diego sat straight up on the bed.  Shaking his head, he ran his fingers through his hair. Crossing his legs, he leaned back against the headboard.  "No, Julian. I don't know much about that woman, but I can tell you that she is no murder."  Julian watched as his friend frowned.  Diego usually was not quick to believe in anyone's innocence or guilt.  Let the facts tell, he usually said.

"I didn't say that she was. I said that _they_ say she is, with all the wisdom 'they' usually show," Julian answered.  He walked over to the window, looking out over the almost empty plaza of Los Angeles.  The silence between him and Diego was a comfortable one.  They had always understood one another, even when they were first roomed together at the university.  Each sensed the other's pain, and never forced the other to talk about it.

Many men whispered that Julian rode Diego's coattails to his current rank, and he was honest enough to admit that it was true.  Diego was raw talent in an impressive package.  He could go wherever he wanted, and he would be further today, if not for worrying about his mother and friend.

Julian wished had not mentioned the ridiculous rumor to his friend, but he always made sure Diego had all the information he needed.  It was the only way he could really aid the man.  Usually, a rumor about the tavern owner in a _pueblo_ was unimportant, but Julian had never seen Diego respond to a woman the way he had to Victoria Escalante.  To be truthful, the excitable business owner's response surprised him, too.  He had only known her for a little over a week, but she had shown herself to be very distant where the _señors_ were concerned.

"I admit the circumstances were damning.  A dead man in the bed, blood on the knife she was holding in her hand.  Sergeant Jamie Mendoza, after hearing her screaming, ran in from the plaza to find her standing over the body." As usual, he kept his tone of voice monotone when giving a report.  He did not want to influence Diego's thoughts by his own opinion.  If Diego wanted his estimation, he never hesitated to ask for it, and he always got a completely honest answer. 

"Mendoza? The Sergeant downstairs that she was talking to when I entered?"  Julian felt concern at the fatigue he heard in Diego's voice.  Physical exhaustion was difficult, but emotional weariness carried far more danger. 

"Yes, Jamie Mendoza is one of the few lancers here universally liked by the people.  He is a bit naïve, and sometimes a little slow intellectually, but his heart is made of gold.  He is a good friend to _Don_ Alejandro and _Señorita_ Victoria, but he acts uncomfortable around _Don_ Gilberto."

"Uncomfortable? In what way?"  Julian knew his friend's wish to become friends with the brother he had never met before, but he was going to be disappointed.  Gilberto de la Vega did have some redeeming qualities, but his dishonesty would prevent the emissary from liking him.

"He stops laughing when the man walks in the room.  Not a gradual stop, but a choking end. He usually leaves the room or the area when _Don_ Gilberto arrives.  He greets him very formally compared to the rest of the _pueblo's_ citizens.  Mendoza is even on a first name basis with _Don_ Renaldo, the most proper of Los Angeles's _caballeros_, but _Don_ Gilberto is referred to as '_Señor_ de la Vega.'"  Julian turned to look at his tired leader.  Praying that his friend could finally find peace, he slowly walked over to the bed.

"He's a good man, Diego. You'll want to be his friend," he finished softly. 

"Is he the one that accused Victoria of murder?"  Julian noticed the lack of address in front of the tavern owner's name.  He forced himself not to show any emotion.  Diego was usually very proper about how he addressed people.  Why had the _señorita_ affected him so strongly?

Shacking his head, Julian sat in his abandoned chair.  "No, he was the one that passionately defended her.  The _alcalde_ was prepared to hang her, and Mendoza actually stood up to him.  Stuttering the whole time, I'm told, but actually very persuasive.  He said that Victoria would not harm a fly unless absolutely forced to do so."

"The _alcalde_ agreed to let her go because of it?"  Julian smiled at the incredulous tone in his friend's voice.  Diego's eyes were wide, and his mouth was actually open a little in his surprise.

Laughing, he shook his head. "No, Luis Ramón--the _alcalde_ of Los Angeles at that time--gave him extra duty for three months.  _Señor_ Zorro rescued the lady.  He threatened to kill the man until he agreed to let her go.  It was one of the first crimes he committed.  The people still whispered about her and the murder, however.  No one else was ever caught or convicted of the crime, so there is a cloud of doubt over _Señorita _Victoria's head in some people's eyes.  Most of Los Angeles loves her and believes her to be innocent."

"Why do they love her?" Diego met his gaze, disbelief clouding his eyes.  Surely Diego did not think himself to be in love with the _señorita_?  Diego Resendo never courted a woman more than a few months.  His heart was his own, never given to any woman besides his mother.  Even that love was difficult for Diego to feel.

Setting his glass down, Julian leaned back in his chair.  "She's very passionate, as I'm sure you noticed." Diego grunted in agreement.  "Victoria Escalante is willing to stand up for anybody and has many times.  She's often given free food and board to those that needed it.  She's almost the _pueblo's_ princess."

A sharp knock at the door startled the two men.  Julian stood to answer it, and was pleased to see Corporal Figueroa carrying the emissary's trunk, on the other side of it.  "Ah, Corporal! Come on in, and place it beside my bed.  I'll have it moved after they have finished preparing the emissary's room."

Diego stood, a show of respect for which his men loved him.  Unlike so many other military leaders of the day, Diego truly admired and trusted the men who served under him.  They in turn repaid him with their respect and fevered admiration.  His door was open to them at anytime of the night, and they knew it. If they had a problem, no one hesitated to go speak to Resendo about it.

"Sir, it's good to see you again!"  Figueroa said with a smart salute. 

Diego grinned, returning the salute and greeting.  "Everyone is well?"  The corporal nodded.  Julian knew that Diego had only been separated from his men for less than a week, but knowing his friend, the man spent the entire time worrying that something would happen to them.

Julian's smile left his face when he remembered why his friend had been absent from his men.  Ynez Resendo was staying in Santa Paulo, waiting for the moment of revenge to be complete.  Without the constant push of his mother or his own devotion to her, Diego would forget about the de la Vegas and go on with his life.  He wanted some answers, but he did not care about hurting _Don_ Alejandro. He would do it only because his mother wanted it.

After the corporal left, Diego lost his smile, too.  "Diego--"

The emissary held up his hand.  "I don't want to talk about it, Julian!"  For once, he found himself wishing that he could press the issue, but he knew Diego would only get angrier and more tight-lipped if he did.

Reaching to open his chest, Diego sighed.  "Time to get ready to go mock, Father."

***

Alejandro turned towards the tavern.  Diego stopped the sigh that wanted to escape his lips.  He desired to go _anywhere_ but inside this particular building, because he did not want to see the woman inside of it.  Continuing to talk, he silently prayed that Victoria was not working at the moment, but he suspected it was a dim-witted wish.

There she stood, smiling at Mendoza, his black-haired witch with her soft brown skin and lush lips.  How dare she use them to smile at anyone but him?  How dare he be jealous of a woman he barely knew for smiling at a man he knew would never be more than a friend to her?  What was wrong with him?  He forced his thoughts away from her and back to the real reason he was in Los Angeles--his father.

"--owns half of Barcelona!  He has four sons and thirteen grandchildren.  How about you, _Don_ Alejandro?  Any grandsons?"  Diego continued to taunt.  Every man of wealth he knew wanted grandchildren to carry on the family name, and Diego was sure that _Don_ Alejandro de la Vega felt the same way.  He had found out about many of his father's old friends, and their current state of grandchildren, before he left Madrid.

A look of pain, of regret, crossed _Don_ Alejandro's eyes.  It gave Diego an uneasy feeling for some reason he could not name.  Victoria, pouring them both drinks, shot him a look of loathing.  He had expected the question to needle the old man a little, but this reaction was more extreme than he thought was normal.  "No," _Don_ Alejandro answered.  "No grandchildren.  My son is not married."

Diego noticed Victoria's eyes fall to look at the counter.  She put their drink in front of them, before walking off, huffing, her anger at Diego, and her concern for Alejandro, showing in her every movement.  He turned to look at _Don _Alejandro, but the older man seemed to have found a face carved out of stone.  He made a mental note to ask Julian about it later.  "Not yet, and he won't get there as long as he sits in your jail," Alejandro finished speaking, managing to hold onto that famous de la Vega temper.  

Thinking carefully about his next words, Diego took a sip of his wine, and was surprised to find such a rich flavor in the territories.  He was a man who lived his entire life by careful thinking.  Even in anger, he forced himself to consider every option, every possibility, before he made a move.  "Alejandro," he began, acting like a friend, forgetting the customary _don_ before the _caballero_'s name.  He spoke almost condescendingly.  "As a friend to the King, you know that no matter how badly the war goes with the French goes, we can't tell every peasant, or laborer--"

Alejandro interrupted, showing how well he did know politics. "Or taxpayer?"  Anger was managing to shine through his words.

Diego pretended to ignore it.  "We understand each other perfectly."  He knew the little dig would get his father.  Alejandro de la Vega did not want to believe he had anything in common with him.  As much as Diego understood it, it made him angry anyway.  "On the other hand, Gilberto--is that his name?--seems terribly confused by the political realities of today's world."

The _caballero _answer was short.  "Well, the foremost reality is that Gilberto--and that is his name--sits in your jail."  Diego felt a moment of victory that his comment about Gilberto's name managed to sting Alejandro, but he also felt a moment of regret.  In another world, in another time, he thought he might respect this man.  He knew how to stay focused on the issue.  Diego would admire him today, if he did not know the truth about him.  Unfortunately, he did know about the loyalty of this man, and he would make sure everyone else learned the reality of who Alejandro was, too, after he destroyed him.

"You must hold him very dear," Diego answered softly.  _Why, Father, couldn't you hold me dear, too?  A crooked leg made me unlovable?  Why?  _He wanted to ask, but he managed to keep the questions hidden away.  He doubted anyone watching him would even see his pain in his eyes.  He learned years ago how to hide the agony of rejection.

Alejandro's eyes showed his love of his son.  "He is my only son."  Diego managed to stop himself from flinching--barely.  "We are loyal to each other . . . and _to Spain_!"  Alejandro lifted his glass in a toast before drinking the cool liquid from its container.  

"Then, he shall go free," Diego replied.  Alejandro looked at him a moment.  Diego admired the intelligence he saw working behind that gaze.  Most men gladly took favors from him without a moment's concern that he might later demand repayment.  Alejandro was not that type of man.  He knew that sometime later, Diego Resendo would demand something in return.  Little did he know, but Diego was planning to take his very soul from him.  He smiled as the older man nodded, took his gloves off the counter, and walked away.  

His smile faltered when his eyes met Victoria's.  She seemed to be looking into his soul, and Diego found the sensation uncomfortable.  What was really bothering him, though, was the feeling that he could see into her soul, too.  He saw a passion, a desire for justice, and an innate honesty that called out to him.  

The laughing of some _vaqueros_ managed to break the spell.  She looked away first, and Diego felt as if someone had taken something very valuable away from him.  Yes, he was going to have to spend a lot of time with her and soon.  The more time spent, the less effect she would have him.  Ennui was a familiar feeling for him, and he had no doubt that Victoria would begin to bore him as soon as he began to know her.  He turned away and walked towards the jail.

As Mendoza opened the door with shaking hands, Diego watched the people standing in the small jail.  His brother slowly, yet angrily, walked out of his jail cell.  Gilberto shot him a look of hate, but Diego hoped that would soon change.  He yearned to be friends with his brother.  He, at least, wanted a chance to get to know the man who was his twin, since he doubted they would be life-long friends.  After all, Diego was there to destroy their father, and he would succeed.  He never failed at a mission.

He watched as their father reverently hugged Gilberto.  He noticed, in amazement and curiosity, that Gilberto seemed to be a little stiff in his returning hug.  Diego wondered if Gilberto was like him, if his eyes were open to the truth about _Don_ Alejandro.  If they were, than maybe, they could be friends.

"Such devotion between a father and son," he sneered.  Many people who had challenged Diego Resendo over the years still trembled in fear of his words.  They said he was far more deadly with language than he was with the blade, and _everyone_ knew how good he was with a saber.

Alejandro's back stiffened.  "De la Vegas take great pride in family loyalty."  Diego wanted to scorn him, wanted to shake him, for his lies.  _Family loyalty?_  The man did not know the meaning of those words!  He gave up his son, gave up Diego, because of a twisted leg he quickly outgrew.  Alejandro left his oldest son in the hands of a mad woman who had been unable to even take care of herself.

"How inspiring."  Diego made sure that the other men could hear the mocking in his voice.  "It should be a lesson to us all."  It was only Alejandro's hand that stopped Gilberto from stepping forward.  Diego found himself, again, reluctantly admiring their father.  His brother was showing himself to be an impatient fool, but Diego hoped it was only a sign of the stress today had brought.  Gilberto appeared to be in love with Victoria, and had not liked Diego's interest.  Jealousy made men act _loco_ all the time.  Yes, that was the answer; Gilberto was jealous.

He watched with a heavy heart as they walked out of the jail.  How would have life been different if _Don_ Alejandro had been an honorable man and a loving father?  Would they all now be somewhere working on the _rancho_, laughing at some shared joke?  Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing the answer.


	4. Zorro!

That night, after dinnertime was over, Diego recognized the soft knock on his door, but he did not bother to get off his bed

That night, after dinnertime was over, Diego recognized the soft knock on his door, but he did not bother to get off his bed.  He continued to lie there, starring at the ceiling.  The door slowly opened and Julian stuck his head through the opening.  "Are you actually asleep?" he asked softly, disbelief echoing in every word.

"No, just thinking," Diego answered.  To his shock, Julian walked on through the door and softly closed it behind him.  They had always respected each other's privacy, but maybe Julian was also sensing that everything was changing.

Julian sighed.  "Well, that's nothing new.  I'm not used to the dark motif though."

Diego smiled in spite of himself.  "I've been laying here thinking since this afternoon.  I didn't bother to get up and light any candles."

He heard the sound of a weak chair giving a little as Julian sat down.  "Los Angeles isn't like you imagined."

Diego closed his eyes against the darkness.  He thought of the pleasant little _pueblo_.  He had expected it to be like the dung heaps of Madrid where he had grown up, but instead he had found it to be warm and open.  The laughing faces of the people had been the biggest surprise.  He knew how incompetent of an _alcalde_ they had, but they seemed to find a joy in life that existed outside of their circumstances.  "No, it's nothing like I thought it would be."

He could hear the sounds of Julian shifting on the chair.  Smiling, he thought about all the times Julian approached him when others feared to try.  His faithful lieutenant had never been nervous before tonight.  "Your father and brother aren't like you thought either."

Diego turned to look at the wall, so that his back was to Julian.  He wanted to hide his face, even though the darkness was already doing it.  He was vulnerable tonight in ways he had never been before, and he did not like it.  He would not share his emotions right now with anyone, not even Julian.  "_Don_ Alejandro is just a better actor than I thought."

Julian sighed.  It was the only sound in the room for a while.  Finally, Julian broke the silence.  "The people of Los Angeles love him."

"The people of Los Angeles," Diego spat, "don't know him."

"Diego, he has lived here most of his life.  If you heard the stories--"

He cut Julian's words off with an emphasized, "They don't know him!"

The floor and the chair squeaked together as Julian stood.  He walked over to the window beside Diego's bed.  Even though he could not see him, Diego knew that his friend was looking out into the moonless night.  "Why do you accept her word on this, Diego?  You laugh at most of what she says.  Why do you take her word on this one thing, _amigo_?"

Diego turned to look at his friend.  He strained to see the outline of Julian's face, and he imagined that he could see the lines of worry etched there.  "Because the evidence agrees.  Have you heard one story about my father's frantic lifelong search for me?"  He sat up on the bed, running his hand through his hair.  "Julian, I would accept a year-long search.  Have you heard of either one from these dear friends of my father?  The ones who know him so well?"

_Please, tell me you have heard one whisper, my friend, _he silently pleaded.  He wanted to believe that his father loved him, loved him enough to search for at least a day.  If he just searched for one hour, Diego would go to him now and tell him the entire truth:  everything that happened to him over the years, the hate he felt towards his father and mother.  And he would ask for forgiveness.

Julian shifted and looked back out to the dark _pueblo_.  "No," he admitted.  "No, there has been no mention of a lost son."

Diego felt like he had been punched in the stomach, even though he had been expecting the answer.  "And _that's_ why I believe Mother."

The sounds of a couple of drunken _vaqueros_ leaving the tavern filled the air.  Diego wished for a moment that he could join in their lighthearted fun, but he had never been able to do it.  He had tried to have fun at school.  Sir Edmund always told him to use his mind for more than studying and learning, but he had been unable to find the ability inside himself.  His childhood was over before he had been able to talk, and while most people learned to play, he learned how to take care of his mother.

He looked at his socked feet and thought about Julian's words, and then he thought of _Don_ Alejandro's earlier reaction to his question about grandchildren.  Maybe he had been thinking about his lost son, and thought about the possibility of lost grandchildren.  "Has there been any mention of lost grandsons?" he asked.

Julian's reaction startled him.  He always depended on Julian for the quick answers to any question, but the lieutenant's reluctance to answer was obvious to Diego, even in the dark.  "Julian?" 

His friend turned and began pacing.  "It really doesn't matter--"

"Julian!  I asked a question, and I'd like the answer to it, please."  Los Angeles seemed to be affecting Julian, too.  

Stopping in mid-step, he turned to look at his commander, and then stood straight, as if he was giving a formal report.  "He does have a grandson, Sir."

Diego's head jerked back in surprise.  "But Gilberto isn't married!"

"No, Sir, but the mother of the child is--or rather was.  Her husband left the territory after the child was born."  Julian's voice revealed to Diego how he hated to be revealing this information.

Diego reached over to light a candle.  He wanted to see Julian's face.  "How did you come by this gossip?"

"_Señor _Pedalta told me."

Diego waited for a moment for the rest of the story.  When it became obvious to him that Julian was not going to volunteer the information, he asked, "And _Señor_ Pedalta is?"  He walked over to stand in front of the window.

Julian's shoulders sank.  "He's a local farmer--jealous of _Don_ Alejandro."

"For good reason?"

Shaking, his head, Julian meet his friend's eyes.  "No, he's jealous of his wealth and his prestige.  You know the type."

Diego sat down on the window seal.  "I'm surprised to get such a piece of information from him in such a short time.  Small _pueblos_ like Los Angeles usually protect their own."

"I got him drunk one night," Julian admitted, sinking onto the bed.  He leaned against a bedpost.  "He regretted it the next morning.  He was talking to me when you walked into the tavern."

"And revealed that you were my little spy," Diego finished.

Julian smiled, but it was sad.  "Yeah."

"You've never regretted being found out before," Diego said.  It was a question, in a way.

"No, I haven't, but I like this _pueblo_, Diego.  I like the people.  This is the first place that I have been able to imagine myself growing old, and having my children and grandchildren surrounding me on my deathbed."  

Diego wondered if his friend might leave him after this "battle", but he decided he would worry about that it when the time came.  Distance would not end their friendship, and Los Angeles would be a good place where Julian could grow old.  

He thought of the children he had seen running through the plaza earlier today.  Was one of them his nephew?  He snorted.  "_Don _Alejandro was talking about family loyalty earlier.  The bastard doesn't even know the meaning of the word."

Julian's sigh was one of anger.  "Diego, you are making assumptions, something _I _have never seen _you_ do before now.  If you must know the whole truth, _Gilberto_ doesn't know the meaning of 'family loyalty'.  One of his father's closest friends was married to a wonderful lady who was years younger than him.  She was young, and as young ladies can sometimes do, she feel in love with a man closer to her own age."

Diego closed his eyes.  "Gilberto."

"Gilberto," Julian agreed with a nod.  "Instead of acting like the gentleman his father raised him to be, he seduced her.  When she told him that she was pregnant, he made the mistake of bragging about it to one of his 'friends'.  Word got out into the community.  _Don _Alejandro refused to believe it at first, but when the child was born, there was no denying it was a de la Vega.  The husband left the very next day."

"Did he divorce her?"

Shaking his head, Julian got up from the bed and walked over to stand beside his friend.  "No, and I cannot tell you why.  Maybe he thought he was being kind by letting her keep his name, or maybe he was doing it for his religious beliefs.  Or, maybe he knew that would be the kind thing to do, but he wanted some revenge."

Diego looked over at Julian.  "The kind thing?  What do you mean?"

His friend smiled, standing to walk over to where Diego sat.  "Everyone knows that _Don_ Alejandro, to this day, would make Gilberto marry her if she were free.  He spoils the child and the mother, but he has never acknowledged him as his grandson.  He refuses to give the child that stigma."

"Because, until he does, it is still a rumor."  Diego had seen enough in Madrid to understand why _Don_ Alejandro would not do publicly what he wanted to do.

"Yeah, it's just a rumor that everyone knows is true, but no one talks about it much anymore."  Julian's soft voice ached.  His friend understood what it was like to be raised without a father, too.

Diego watched the stars twinkle in the sky.  "And, Gilberto, does he spoil the child, too?"

Julian's silence gave him the answer.  Diego did not bother to repeat the question, because he did not need, and did not want, to hear the reply.

***

Diego could barely hear his own footsteps in the quiet of the night.  He had learned early how to move quietly, taking his victims totally unaware.  He wondered if any of those many faceless men would believe that the ragged street urchin who managed to pick their pocket now met with the King on a regular basis.  He could not, so why should they?

"Hold it right there," he heard a stern voice say to him.  The tone, without saying the words, warned that the speaker held a gun in her hands.

"_Señorita _Escalante, I must say you have a unique way of greeting your guests," he said without moving.  From the looks she had given him earlier, he had little doubt that she would love for him to give her a reason to shoot him.  Why was he so intrigued by her?

He heard the whisper of a gun dropping, rubbing against a skirt.  "_Señor _Resendo, I don't usually have my guests sneaking around after midnight," she answered smartly.

Diego turned, waving the small bag of coins in his hand.  "I was wanting a bottle of wine.  I fully intended to leave you payment."  He felt his heart quicken at the sight of her.  Victoria's hair was a mess, revealing that she had been asleep sometime tonight, or had been like him, struggling to fall asleep.  

Walking over to the bar, she nodded.  She reached under it and drew out a dusty bottle.  It was probably a vintage that she did not get much call for in this part of the world, one too expensive to be savored by many in this _pueblo.  _"Eight pesos," she said, holding at her hand.

Diego smiled.  She was hoping to upset him with the outrageous price.  He handed her ten pesos.  "For your trouble," he explained.

He knew that her palms itched to throw the money back at him, but she instead dropped it into her skirt's pockets.  She handed him a glass.  Walking around the bar, she headed back towards the steps.  Diego reached for her.

Her skin was as smooth and soft as he thought it would be.  He found his thumb caressing it softly.  "Stay."  Usually he always sounded like he was giving orders.  Julian often teased him that he had forgotten how to talk to someone outside of his command.  Tonight, though, it sounded like a request, and Victoria hesitated.  "Please."  Diego's tongue curled around the unusual word.  

He lifted the wine bottle.  "It appears to be an excellent wine, and it isn't like you were finding sleep any easier than I was tonight."

She looked at him and then at his hand.  He could see the struggle going on in her mind, and he felt sympathy for her.  He had been fighting the same battle himself all day.  She wanted to run from him, but he intrigued her, too.  She finally nodded and walked over to a nearby table.

Uncorking the bottle, Diego watched the woman across from him.  Her nervousness and her excitement were obvious to him.  Usually, he found women's reaction to him amusing, but tonight he was having the same responses towards her.  Victoria Escalante was managing to do what hundreds of French troops had only dreamed of doing:  She was scaring Diego Resendo.

He took a drink.  Licking his lips, he watched as Victoria joined him.  "Excellent."  She nodded in agreement.

Suddenly, she looked up from her wineglass.  Her eyes pierced him, freezing him to the chair.  "_Don_ Alejandro is a good man," she snapped.

Diego's eyebrow rose.  "I--I never said he wasn't."

Victoria shook her head.  "No, but you eyes did."

"Really?" he tried to sound nonchalant, but no one had ever seen through him so easily.  "I guess I'll have to order them to start being more quiet."

"He's a wonderful man, _Señor _Resendo--" Diego reached over and put a finger over her lips.  It was a mistake.  The sounds of their breathing filled the air.  Caressing her lips, he smiled.  "Diego--at least for tonight, call me Diego."

Her eyes told him that she wanted to resist him, but found herself powerless to do so.  He would enjoy the feeling, except he was in her spell.  "He's a wonderful man, Diego."  He shivered at the sound of his name on her lips.  What was wrong with him?  "Why do you hate him?"

He smiled.  "I never said I did."  Victoria's eyes bore into his, and he found himself unable to lie to her.  "But, if I did, Victoria, I would have a good reason."

Diego watched how her throat moved as she swallowed more of the wine.  "Would you?  I have heard many stories about you."

"Have you?"  He was used to hearing that line.  His reputation always preceded him before he arrived at a _pueblo_.  Los Angeles was the first place he wished it had come in behind him.  He wanted her to have an open mind about him.  "_They_ always say not to believe everything you hear.  I've heard some stories about you, too."

Victoria jerked back, and he wished he had kept his mouth shut.  "I've murdered no one, _Señor_."

"I didn't say I thought you had."  Caressing her hand, he wondered how someone who worked so hard in a tavern could have such soft hands.  They were not the softest hands he had ever caressed, but he found them perfect.  No one in Madrid seemed to compare to her, and that frightened Diego.  He had never found a woman "perfect" before now.

"Have you--have you ever murdered anyone?" she asked.

Diego's smile turned sad.  "I've never murdered anyone, Victoria, but I am a soldier.  I have killed."

Victoria pulled her hand away from his.  Standing she walked over towards the kitchen.  "I used to understand the difference, but now--"

"In most ways that count, there is no difference."  Diego's voice was soft, caressing, as he walked up behind her.  "I have taken human life.  It's not something I'm proud of, Victoria, but in this world, it is a reality."

Victoria wiped at her face, and Diego opened she was only trying to get the sleep out of her eyes.  He was not sure he could handle this woman's tears.  "Not the kind to brag that you killed over a hundred Frenchman, huh?"

He puts his arms around her stomach.  Pulling her back against him, he whispered into her ear.  "Never would I brag about killing a man, Victoria."

He felt her trembling.  "You are nothing like I heard you were," she whispered.

"I'm me," he answered.  He knew the rumors that were spread about him, just as he knew the truths.  He was not sure what Victoria had heard, but he hoped she found him enjoyable.  At least for a few days, until he became bored with her.  He _would_ become apathetic towards her; he had decided it would be so.

She turned in his arms and looked up at him.  He realized that he was trembling, too.  It did not matter.  Victoria was in his arms.  He reached down and began to kiss her.  She tasted of wine and honey.  He had kissed experienced courtesans who kissed with less finesse.  Her kiss was perfection.  He thought he could stay here all night kissing her.  Then, he felt Victoria tense in his arms.

Looking over his shoulder, she flinched in surprise.  "Zorro!"

He turned to find the notorious outlaw watching angrily from the guardrail at the top of the steps.  Word of this man had even reached Madrid, along with the _pueblo_'s support of him.  Diego decided, before coming to Los Angeles, that he would make up his own mind about the outlaw.  Unfortunately, it appeared the masked man had no plans to return the courtesy.  

"_Señor_, we finally meet," Diego said, turning away from Victoria.  His arms felt cold without her in them, but he admitted that he was looking forward to the challenge Zorro offered.  

He felt Victoria's hands clenching his shoulders.  "Diego, he is Zorro!"

Diego saw anger cross his opponent's face at Victoria's familiarity with him.  Good, the man was not going to be that hard to beat, after all.  A man who could not control his anger was easily defeated, especially when fighting with a sword.  "Yes, I assumed as much," he answered her.  "I didn't think many people would be going to his tailor."

Zorro jumped over to the chandelier and swung overhead.  As he landed in front of them, Diego had to admit that he enjoyed the outlaw's sense of style.  Victoria's nails were now digging into his shoulders.  Diego was touched by her concern.  He turned and gently pushed her behind the bar, out of the way of any sword.  She clutched at his hand.  "Diego, he is _Zorro_!"

He smiled and gently kissed her hand.  "I know; I heard you the first time."  Turning to look at his furious opponent, he leaned on one elbow against the bar.  _Ah, you don't like that do you, my little fox?  You like seeing the fear in people's eyes!_  He pointed down to his lack of sword.  "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, _Señor_.  I am currently without my weapon.  If you will wait a moment, I'll have my Lieutenant bring my saber."

Diego knew that Zorro was admiring him despite himself.  Victoria was nervously watching them both, and he wished he could reassure her.  He was a saber master himself, and he doubted that Zorro would be impossible to beat, as rumor held.  The level of swordsmanship around here was far below that of Madrid.  He could not tell her that though, without letting his opponent know.

Zorro nodded his head, and Diego smiled.  "Julian," he called, knowing how light a sleeper his friend was.  "Can you bring me my sword?"  Within seconds, Julian was out of his room, wearing only his pants and his scabbard.  Diego's sword was in his hands a few moments later, after he had raced into his commander's room and back out of it again.  He startled a little when he saw the masked outlaw, something that was surprising in itself, but he ran down the steps, tossing Diego his sword at the bottom.

He easily caught it.  He gripped the cool metal in his hand and began looking forward to this fight.  It would be a real challenge.  Most of his men were too frightened by his reputation to compete against him.  He had no interest in killing the masked man, and doubted Zorro wanted to kill him--too many complications would arise if a royal emissary were murdered in the territories.

Some of Diego's battles ended in death.  People, if they knew the real numbers, would comment that it was ridiculously low for a soldier with his ability, but Diego hated death, believing that the loss of one man was to the detriment of mankind.  Sir Edmund taught him to love fencing, to enjoy the beauty in the movement, and to love the mental work of "seeing" his opponent's moves and reactions.  He hated to use it for killing, even though his teacher thought that it was natural part of fighting.  Tonight, the battle with Zorro would be for fun.

When Zorro unsheathed his sword, Julian spoke.  "You might want to take this outside, Gentlemen.  Victoria's has been damaged more than once in fights, and I'm sure she would enjoy the chance to go to bed, instead of staying up the night cleaning and repairing."

Diego smiled and nodded.  "Of course."  Pointing his hand towards the door, he said, "After you."  Zorro waited a second, thinking.  Then, nodding, he walked towards the door.

Diego could hear Victoria fussing at Julian for not stopping the battle, and he resisted the urge to laugh.  No man dared to speak to the proper Lieutenant Hidalgo like Victoria was doing right now.  He wondered if Julian felt as dizzy around Victoria as he did.  Even as he thought that question, he ignored it.  Julian had sensed how Diego was affected by the beautiful tavern owner, and Julian would ignore any feelings he may have had towards her himself.  

He felt selfish for refusing to give up his own interests in Victoria.  Usually, whenever a lady had intrigued both of them, something that seldom happened, they both would choose to ignore her and find other game.  He could not do that now.  Victoria was different from any woman he had ever met, but, given time, he was sure he would again experience the familiar ennui.

He and Zorro saluted and began circling one another, examining each other, looking for weaknesses.  Diego knew little about the man before him.  He heard the whispers, but he seldom paid attention to such information.  After all, he learned from his own experience how seldom the gossip was true.

Noticing his opponent's preoccupation with the sight of Victoria in Julian's arms, Diego knew that he had found a weakness.  Unfortunately, it was his own weakness, too.  Would Zorro realize it and use it to his advantage?  "She is lovely, isn't she?" he asked the masked man.

Zorro's eyes flashed.  Diego saw his men and the garrison's lancers beginning to surround them.  He whispered so that no one else would hear.  "A wonderful kisser, too, but then you probably already knew that."  

It worked.  Zorro, furious, lunged at him.  Diego found it ridiculously easy to fight this man, but he could see the good swordsman beneath the rage.  Zorro's abilities were prolonging the battle, but his anger was preventing him from making the smartest choices.  He wanted to hurt Diego, and he was not thinking ahead.  A couple of good sweeps and cuts, and a sharp graze down the blade, Zorro was unarmed.  The crowd gasped.

Zorro whistled.  Reaching down to pick up his sword, he whistled again.  His eyes hot and his arms shaking in anger, he leaned towards the royal emissary.  "It's not over between us," he snarled.  

Diego grinned as he admitted,  "I didn't think it was."  One final whistle and the neighing of a horse filled the air.  Diego stepped aside as a beautiful black stallion thundered through the plaza.  Zorro jumped up into its saddle and rode away into the darkness.  

Julian and Victoria came to stand beside Diego.  "What a beautiful horse," the royal emissary whispered in awe.

"He's not well trained.  He seems to have a mind of his own most of the time, but Toronado is the fastest horse in the territory," Victoria's voice broke the silence.  

"Toronado?  A great name for a wonderful horse!  He is the best looking stallion I have ever seen."  Diego turned to look down at Victoria.  "I guess I shouldn't be surprised.  Los Angeles has showed itself to be full of mysterious beauty."  Victoria blushed as Julian stiffened.

Ignacio DeSoto, still wearing his nightshirt, walked over to the group.  "I've never seen Zorro defeated before tonight."  His disbelief was obvious.  He looked as if he had awakened into a dream, but did not know how to react.  

Diego turned to look at the idiot standing next to him.  "I guess that just proves, _Alcalde_, that Zorro has not been as big as a threat as you've made him to be.  Remember, you have four more nights to catch him before I have you chained and on board a ship sailing to Madrid."  DeSoto flinched.  "Just imagine it, _Alcalde_, being dragged through the street as the rabble curses you and throws rotten food at you.  Hopefully, most of it will be soft like tomatoes, but--" He left the thought up in the air.  He nodded his head at Julian who understood the signal.  He drew Victoria with him back into the tavern as Diego followed behind.


	5. Julian Begins To Disagree

The next morning, Julian knocked on the door as Diego finished dressing

The next morning, Julian knocked on the door as Diego finished dressing.  "Come in," he called as he tightened his cravat.  In the mirror, he watched his friend enter the room.  As always, his Lieutenant was perfectly dressed.  The outfit looked so starched that it would be easy to believe that it was impossible to move in it.  Diego preferred his outfit crisp but loose.  He managed to cut an impressive figure in his uniform, nonetheless.

"Good morning, Julian."  Diego felt wonderful this morning.  He had managed to get some sleep after his fight with Zorro, and his defeat of the masked outlaw had been wonderful for his downed spirits.  On top of all that, he had managed to kiss Victoria.  He doubted it would be long before he managed to get her into his bed.

Julian remained as stiff as his uniform.  "Good morning, Sir."

Grinning, Diego turned.  "Ah, I've managed to somehow earn the disapproval of my faithful Lieutenant," he joked.  "What have I done now?  If you had wanted, I would have let you fight Zorro last night."  Julian's hands clenched, alerting Diego to the fact that this was beyond Julian's normal frustration at him.  "What is, Julian?"  He was completely serious now.

"Diego," Julian sighed.  "I thought Zorro was unimportant."

Shrugging, Diego leaned against the bed.  "He is."

"Then why did you fight him last night?"

Diego smiled.  "I didn't want to, Julian, but he was too angry to listen, I think."

"Angry at what?"  Julian snorted.  "You haven't even started the plan, yet."

"He saw me kissing _Señorita_ Victoria last night, and he didn't appear to like it."

Julian somehow managed to stand even straighter.  "Diego, she's as innocent as the day she was born."

Diego stood up, reaching for his coat.  "I somehow doubt that, Julian.  She's hardly a blushing schoolgirl."  He buttoned up his waistcoat and pulled it straight.  "Besides, she's ran a tavern most of her life, and she's unmarried."

"She's unmarried because she's a business owner and a little leery of any suitor, and what few suitors there have been have come from out of the _pueblo_ thanks to Zorro.  He's managed to frighten everyone away," Julian snarled between clenched teeth.

Diego looked at his friend, unsure what to say.  He felt his own temper rising.  "Really?  Then, they are fools.  Does she have a relationship with Zorro?"

Julian shook his head violently.  "No, there was a possibility of one at the beginning.  She forgave him easily enough for not clearing her name.  He did, after all, rescue her from hanging.  He stopped _Don_ Alejandro from being taken by some con artists by killing a man named Ramirez.  He then saved the community from a water drought that the _alcalde _had managed to engineer.  He even stopped a _caballero_, believe it or not, who had recently inherited his father's _rancho_, from evicting everyone by revealing that the father's will left each of them free holders."

"A little violent perhaps, but it sounds like his heart was in the right place.  What happened?"  Diego asked, watching his friend beginning to pace.

"What happened was that _Don_ Gilberto's cousin, _Don _Rafael, came to Los Angeles."  Diego looked at his friend waiting for the rest of the story.  "It would not have been a problem except for the fact that he brought his beautiful fiancée with him."

"Zorro seduced her?"  Diego could not believe it.

Julian stopped his pacing long enough to look at his friend.  "Yes, he did.  She foolish believed herself to be in love with him, and, even more foolishly, believed he was in love with her."

Diego sank on the bed.  "Amazing."  He gave a half-laugh.  "I can't believe the people support him so completely after that incident."

Julian sighed, leaning against the door jam.  "The support is not as intense as we heard in Madrid.  The people side with Zorro out of need more than respect.  He's done a lot of great things over the years, but he's also done some bad.  He is quick to kill, and he seems to be more worried about the _caballero_s than he is with the peasants, but he's better than the _alcalde_."

"That's not saying much, Julian."  It had not taken either one of them long to realize how ignorant or how arrogant Ignacio DeSoto was, and Diego could well imagine how his predecessor, Luis Ramón, had been.

"No, it's not, but that's how these people live, Diego."  Julian's respect and awe for the citizens of Los Angeles were obvious.  Diego realized that Julian would be staying here when the troops left, and even though he regretted the loss of his friend, he hoped Julian found it to be the home that he had been searching for long before they first met him at the University.

Diego shrugged and broke the silence.  "He and Victoria probably had a love affair going when it happened.  That's why he's so possessive."

Julian exploded.  "What is about Los Angeles that makes you so blind?  You see the truth so easily every where else we go, but here you want to hold onto your old prejudices!"

Diego managed to hold onto his temper, barely.  Julian had never before been this angry with him.  Maybe it was for the best that they would soon be going separate ways, because he doubted their friendship would survive Julian's constant judgment.  "Perhaps I am not as blinded by love as you are, my friend.  Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do."  Diego snapped the door open and strolled through it, leaving his friend behind to stew.

***

He sat in the _alcalde_'s office and brooded about Julian's words.  Was he letting old prejudices blind him or was Julian letting his enchantment with this place interfere with his duty?  Diego had a hard time believing either one was true.  He always took the time to make his own judgments, and Julian was the consummate soldier.  He crossed his arms across the ledgers lying open on the desk, and laid his head down with a sigh.  The constant mental debate with himself was giving him a headache.  That, too, was something new.  He usually made his mind up quickly and then never questioned it.  Here, he had yet made a decision that seemed clear.

A knock on the door made him sit up straight.  It was not Julian, and he doubted anyone but one of his soldiers would dare to disturb him here.  Just because he felt like he was being driven _loco_, there was no sense causing his men any worry.  They depended on him.  Standing, he called for whomever it was to enter.

It was Corporal Figueroa.  He saluted crisply and held out his left hand.  "I brought you the mail, Sir."  

So, Julian had not forgiven him, yet.  "Thank you, Corporal.  That will be all."  Another quick salute and the young man was gone.

Diego smiled when he noticed the handwriting on the first envelope.  It was from Sir Edmund.  Eagerly, he reached for his letter opener.  It was then that he noticed the writing on the second envelope--his mother's.  His gut clenched, his usual reaction to thoughts of the old woman who had raised him.  _Maybe you should say the old lady that you helped to raise_, Diego thought with some remembered pain and amusement.  He tossed down the second letter and quickly opened the more important one.

Dear Diego,

Shame on you for not telling me you were going to Los Angeles!  It has only been a few hours since you left here, and I heard the news moments ago.  I miss you already, my old friend.  

I have always wanted to see Los Angeles.  It is where an old friend of my lives--_Don_ Alejandro de la Vega.  He's a wonderful man, and you should call on him while you are there.  We saw much together when I was helping the Spanish Crown train its troops in swordplay.  (Who would then think that over twenty years later that I would then be accused of treason to that same crown?  I can never thank you enough for helping me out of that quandary, Diego, but I must tell you that, if you had not been available, I would have gone to Los Angeles to seek help.)

If I had known that you were going, I would have sent some items with you for both my old friend, Alejandro, and for his son, Gilberto.  I do not know if you remember Gilberto or not, but he was here at the University at the same time as you, and he, too, was my pupil.  Of course, you were usually lost in a book, and Gilberto was usually lost in some beautiful lady.  Studying was never his forte.

Please, come see me soon after you get back from the colonies.  I want to hear all about Los Angeles.  Please give my love to _Don_ Alejandro, and say hello to Gilberto for me.  Although he may wish to forget we ever met.  Unlike you, he never liked, or understood the need for, the discipline I forced on him in learning the sword.

Your Friend,

Edmund

Diego stared at the words, trying to force them into making some kind of sense to him.  Somehow, in all his research, he had not managed to find out that his friend, Edmund, even knew his father.  If he had known, he would have asked his old teacher about Alejandro and Gilberto.  Diego would have shared with him the entire truth, because Edmund could have given him insight.

He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling.  "Who are you, _Don_ Alejandro de la Vega?  Have you managed to fool all this people, or was my birth the only time you acted so dishonorably?" he mused aloud.  Looking down at his straight and strong legs, he asked, "Was it just because I was born first, the heir?  You could have lied instead of giving me to the midwife.  No one can see ten-minutes age difference by looking.  You could have just said _he_ was the oldest instead of throwing me away."  

He let out a deep breath and grabbed up his mother's letter.  Frantically, before he lost his nerves, he tore open the envelope and yanked out the letter inside it.  Taking another deep breath, he opened it and forced himself to read the words.

My Dear Son,

You should have arrived by now, and be well on your way to achieving your real purpose in visiting Los Angeles--the destruction of the de la Vegas.  You must never forget the humiliation I suffered at the hand of _Don_ Alejandro de la Vega, never forget you were rejected by your natural mother, and I took you in, loved you, cared for you.  The de la Vega inheritance will be yours, dearest Diego.  Be my arm of vengeance and grind them into the dust!

"Yes, Mother, I am doing well.  Thank you for asking, and thank you for letting me know how you are doing," he muttered at the letter.

Getting up out of his chair, he walked over to the door and opened it a crack.  Unbelievably, the very people he was busy thinking about were standing in his line of sight.  There was his beautiful black-haired witch standing next to his father and brother.  Mendoza stood between the _alcalde_ and _Don_ Alejandro.

"Into the dust, Mother?  An arm of vengeance?"  He looked down at his letter, and sadly shook his head.  Snapping the door closed behind him, he went back to checking the _pueblo_'s records.  "Sounds like your usual rhetoric, Mother."  Getting back to work, Diego forced his mind off old wounds.

***

The next morning, Diego continually shifted in his pew.  Julian, had actually sat down beside him earlier, and murmured, "It looks like you are a tad bit uncomfortable with what you are about to do, Sir."

Diego shot him a look that ordered him to be quiet.  Julian's eyes reflected his own regret at his words, and simply nodded in understanding.  The Church had been the only place of comfort for a small street urchin in Madrid.  Until he had sent that fateful letter to his uncle, the Church had been the only place where he had found any peace in his life.  Julian was the lone person alive who knew that fact, and they had never before taken advantage of their knowledge about each other for easy emotional punches.

He heard DeSoto talking with Gilberto behind him.  After discovering his brother's friendship with the _alcalde, _he found it harder for him to find anything to admire about him.  Right now, Gilberto was expressing his sympathy at the recent behavior of Zorro.  The masked outlaw seemed to be fully aware of what was going on in Los Angeles, and he had been having some fun at the _alcalde_'s expense.  Diego had watched in amazement and disgust as the man rode through the _pueblo_ just to get DeSoto and his men to chase him.  They always failed, humiliated by some stunt at the end.

Diego was having a hard time understanding Zorro.  He had managed to get Victoria to say a few words about the _pueblo_'s notorious hero, but she refused to tell him much.  Most of his information was coming from the meticulous notes that the two _alcaldes_ kept about the outlaw.  He remembered reading what _Padre_ Benitez said about Zorro.  Just rescued by him, and in the process of helping _Don_ Emilio recover from the wounds he had received after challenging the outlaw, he'd told Ramón,  "There is both good and evil struggling in that man.  Only time will let us know which will win."  To Diego, "good and evil struggling" seemed to be a good explanation for the contradictory nature of the masked man.

Diego, knowing Latin, listened carefully to the words of the service when it began.  He had always found comfort in the cool walls of a monastery, but after today he was not sure he would ever again feel sheltered in a Church.  _God, forgive me for what I am about to do_, he prayed.

_Padre_ Benitez was a man of God.  Diego had met men who wore the cloth, but knew less about walking with God than a newborn did.  Benitez was not one of those priests.  His love for the people of Los Angeles, his belief that he was there to be a shepherd, was obvious to even the most casual of observers, and Diego was scientifically trained to watch his world.  Forcing himself to breath, he walked up to greet Los Angeles's minister.

It was a beautiful day, and Diego found himself wishing that he could get on his horse and just ride the territory.  However, he had too much work to do to enjoy it.  "A splendid mission you have here, _Padre_ Benitez."  It was beautiful, especially to be here in the wilds of the earth instead of in civilization.

As Benitez thanked him, Julian walked up beside him, a show of support for an act he disagreed with, even in planning.  "It was built by the local Indians."

"Under Spanish rule and supervision, of course," Diego said, feeling like a stick was stuck in his throat.  What his country, what every country, had done to the Indians was disgraceful.  The look on the _padre_'s face let him know that the man shared Diego's feelings about the subject.  "Then, I am sure that you appreciate his Majesty's generosity."

"Generosity?  But is the _duty_ of every Christian King to send the Word of God to the four corners of the earth," Benitez protested.

Diego forced back the bile rising in his throat.  "Just as it is _your_ duty to discharge this missionary's obligations to the royal throne."

"With all respect," _Padre_ Benitez objected.  "Our only obligation is to God."  

Diego admired the man's courage and his conviction.  _True, Padre, _he told him in his mind, _and I hope that you, and God, can forgive me._  "God is not engaged in a war with the French--we are.  And since the Church shares our duty to support the Spanish Crown in that effort," Diego said, slowly getting louder to attract the crowds attention.  Many people, like in most small _pueblos_, had stayed after church, talking in the plaza.  Benitez looked down, refusing to show his reaction to Diego's words.  "I hereby confiscate all mission properties."

"What?"  His father, of course, was the first person to speak.  "You can't do that!"

"Really?" Diego taunted, making sure to pull all the emotional switches of this man.  "And just who's going to stop me?"  His stomach was churning in protest at his own actions.  He had never been ashamed of anything he had done before now.  Diego always despised the type of men who believed they were mini-gods here on earth because of their power.

"This is unheard of!"  He hated seeing the good _padre_ so upset.  He would have felt kinder hitting the man.  "What you propose is unprecedented!"

"It is rather creative, I agree."  It was making Diego even more upset than it was anyone else, not that he could let that show.

"Be warned that, _Señor_ Resendo, the people of this _pueblo_ will never stand for this," _Don _Alejandro warned him.  Diego admired the man's daring, almost as much as wanted to shake his brother for remaining silent.  

"The people," Diego began.  _Are a wonderful group, united in a common cause to survive_.  "Are a bunch of seditious pack of jackals.  Don't threaten me with insurrection, de la Vega.  For years, the Church has grown fat with the help of the crown.  Now, it is simply time to pay the piper!"  Amazingly enough, he managed to say it without choking.

Everyone stood quietly, finding no more words to say.  Diego walked away and Julian followed closely behind.  "I'm going to go work in the _alcalde_'s office.  Don't bother bringing me any lunch today."

Julian nodded.  "Can't stomach it?"  The two friends did not say exchange another word for the rest of the morning.


	6. Taking the Hacienda

After lunch, Julian walked into the office to find Diego leaned against the window

After lunch, Julian walked into the office to find Diego leaned against the window.  He was watching the group of people that had gathered to protest the emissary's latest order.  It had been amazingly quick.  Even Victoria had been surprised by the overwhelming support the protesters had gathered.  

"Allow me to arrest the ringleaders, Diego, so that they will calm down."

Diego shook his head.  "No, not yet.  Let them simmer for a while."

"Diego--" His friend turned to look at him, and Julian noticed how sad his eyes looked.

"Julian, just let them simmer for a little while longer.  My father and brother have just arrived.  An angry mob will be easier for me to lead."

Silence filled the room, neither man noticing the sound of protesters just outside the window.  "When does this game end, Diego?"

His friend turned to look back at the crowd.  "When my father has been destroyed."

"Or you?"  Diego did not answer.  "I don't even know you right now, Diego.  You have always been honest with the men, but right now they feel like they are sinking in quick sand.  You've always made sure they went to Church, now you are calling the people they swore to protect 'jackals' and the Church you showed them to respect is now 'growing fat.'  Stop playing the games with the men at least."

Diego jerked down his jacket.  "They have been in the tavern long enough.  Let's go."

Julian waited a moment, debating his loyalty for one moment.  Sighing, he followed the man he had sworn to give his life for, and the one man in the world he knew would repay the favor.

Diego stopped outside the tavern door and listened to what was being said.  It was his father's voice that he heard.  "My friends, we are faced with a brazen disregard for the sanctity of our church."

The crowd murmured its discontent, but _Padre_ Benitez spoke up to stop their mummers about fighting.  "No. No.  No.  No, my friends, rebellion is not the answer!"  Smart man, the good _padre_.

Victoria's muffled voice came through the door next.  A flash of anger coursed through him as the sweet sound made his heart beat faster.  She was decidedly a witch.  "His troops will crush us.  We have to get Zorro to help us."  Diego flinched at the sound of that name on her lips.  He hated the hope he heard in her voice at that word.  He flung open the doors.

"Good people," he began to gently lead them exactly where he wanted them to go.  "The fact is, _I_ share your concerns, but you have to take a broader view of things."  He slowly walked into the room until he stopped in front of Victoria.  "_I've_ been sent here to collect a special war tax.  If I return to Madrid, empty handed, the King will undoubtedly make an example of this _pueblo_--a violent and bloody example."  The crowd reacted in horror to that statement, just like he knew they would.  "You see, my friends, there are two inescapable realities of life--death and taxes, and you must choose between them."  

"The Church has never been required to pay taxes," Padre Benitez pointed out, speaking his lines like he had a script to read.

"If the people of Los Angeles would only pay the balance of this special assessment, _I _would not be forced to confiscate Church property."  Diego made sure that his pitch was perfect, emphasizing the exact words that needed to be pushed.  The crowd was following him even faster than he thought possible.

"Many people have paid!"  Diego admired Benitez's courage in continuing to speak up against him.

"True, _Padre_, humble farmers go hungry to support their country's war effort," Diego agreed.  He did not look at Victoria, but he knew that she was having the same thought he was having--_to make some cannon manufactures wealthy_.  He had spent too much of his life in war to believe there was anything noble about it--sometimes a cruel necessity, but often the result of some Kings' bruised egos.  "But as long as certain _wealthy_ _caballeros_ avoid paying taxes,_ I_ have no choice but to sell off Church property to make up the debt."  He made sure to look in both Gilberto's and Alejandro's directions.

Diego was pleased to see _Señor _Pedalta present.  He would be the easiest to lead with his past jealousy of the de la Vegas.  Julian's information, as always, had been perfect.  "What do you mean?  Why won't they pay the same tax as us?"

"Because they get tax credit for supplying the military _garrison _with beef."  Diego explained it as if he expected it to be common knowledge, but he knew it was not.

His father apparently was seeing where this was heading.  He protested, "Yes, but the value is well below the market price!"

Diego shared his most precious piece of knowledge.  Most of the men in here were lucky to have forty acres to their name, and they were forced to pay taxes on that small amount.  "And they get 12,000 acres of prime land tax-free just for putting it under the plow!"  

"That is _perfectly legal_!"  Don Alejandro shouted over the cries of the crowd.

Diego stroked old flames of discontent.  "Oh, it may all well be perfectly legal, my friend, but as always, there is one law for the rich and other for the rest of us."  Of course, he to had many tax credits, too, but he needed them to believe he was just like them in order for his plan to work.

"Who does this?  Which _caballeros_?"  

_Ah, thank you, Señor Pedalta!  _Diego thought, but he kept his face blank, as he looked first at his brother and then at his father."Well, two right here."  

"Let the emissary take their _hacienda_ instead of our church!"  With that, the crowd began arguing among itself.  Many agreed with _Señor _Pedalta, but his father had gained much support over the years.  It did not matter.  He knew how the vote would go eventually.  The Church was more important to these people than one _caballero_.  He led the crowd over the finish line, but he felt no pride at his victory.

***

After the crowd cleared, Diego walked down the steps from his room, slowing when he realized that no one but her was in the tavern for the moment.  He watched Victoria as she moved around her tavern, cleaning off tables and setting chairs correctly.  Sweat pouring off her brow, her clothes wrinkled and dusty from the day's work, and her face twisted into a frown from the worry, she was beautiful.  

An unreasonable fury filled him.  How dare she still be beautiful!  He was Diego Resendo--a man who had the ear of the King!  A man whom ladies chased constantly, unconcerned about their marital status, even if he was.  Why should one woman, lost in the wilderness that was the territories, ignite his blood like no one else ever had?

Victoria started when she noticed him on the steps.  She was angry, too.  Good.  He did not want to be alone in these feelings.  She did not say anything for a couple of minutes, continuing to wipe the table in front of her.  Finally, she looked back up at Diego.  "_Señor_, don't you have somewhere to be?"

Diego nodded, finally finishing the remaining steps.  He stood in front of her, anger and passion filling the air between them.  "Yes, I do," was the only words he could think to say.  

There were both silent for several minutes.  Finally, Victoria threw her rag down on the table.  "I can't believe I let you kiss me last night."

Diego's anger matched her own.  "Let me?  I'm sorry, my dear, but you were involved in that kiss just as much as I was."

"A gentleman would never say so," Victoria snap.

Diego laughed, but it was not a sound of enjoyment.  "No one ever accused me of a being a gentleman."

"That's for certain!"  She turned to walk away from him.  Diego wanted to let her go, or he wanted to want to let her go, but he could not.  He grabbed her arm and jerked her back to him gently.  She tried to yank her arm back, but Diego refused to let go of it.  Even in his anger, he was being careful not to hurt this woman.  The thought of finding bruises on her skin that he caused made him physically ill.

He put his other hand in her hair and tugged her mouth to his.  It was a kiss of anger, but it soon softened.  He did not want to care, did not want to enjoy this kiss so much, but he was helpless, lost in her magic.  He drew away, putting both his hands on her shoulders.  He shook her softly.  "Damn you!  What kind of spell have you put over me?"  He gathered her close for another kiss.

The sound of Julian clearing his throat brought them both back to their senses.  Diego, struggling to breath, turned to look at his Lieutenant.  "The troops are ready, Sir."

"The troops?"  

Diego turned to look at Victoria's swelled lips.  He wanted to shake her again.  He wanted to kiss her again.  He did neither.  He verbally taunted her instead.  "Yes, I was meaning to tell you before, but Lieutenant Hidalgo and myself will probably not be returning.  Don't worry.  You should have two new borders to take our rooms."  
  


Victoria looked at him, far more calmly than he wished.  She seemed to understand what he was feeling.  "What two borders?"

"_Don_ Alejandro and _Don_ Gilberto, of course."  He ignored her shocked "What?" and continued to speak over it.  "Yes, I've decided to take _Señor _Pedalta's advice and take their _hacienda_ instead of the Church property."

She touched his arm gently.  It burned him.  "Diego, you cannot do that!"

"I most certainly can, _Señorita_, and I will.  Good day."  Diego walked out of the tavern.  He kept expecting Julian to say something to him on the way to the de la Vega _hacienda_, but for once his friend remained silent.

***

Gilberto was beginning to get on his father's nerves.  He was angrily pacing behind him as he tried to write his letters.  "What good will a letter to the governor do?" he demanded.  "Resendo is an emissary of the _King_!"

A knock on the door prevented him from answering.  "Are you expecting anyone?"

Sinking into the plush couch, Gilberto sighed, "No."

"I'm still sending the letter," Don Alejandro said, walking over towards the door.  He signaled for Felipe to answer it, and the cheerful boy bounced over to do his bidding.  Unfortunately, it had two people behind it that he did not care to see--Emissary Resendo and Lieutenant Hidalgo.  

"Aren't you going to invite us in?"  Alejandro admired the man's courage in asking.  Only to himself would he admit that he wanted to like this man.  He saw a courage and honesty in his eyes that were not being shown in his actions.  He wondered if the stress of the assignment was too much for the young man.  Most men had to be far older before the King granted them such sweeping powers. 

"Of course.  Why not?"  He hoped he would not regret his decision.  He called for his son for moral support, and then wished he had kept his mouth shut.  Gilberto had yet to learn the importance of controlling his temper.  

Alejandro noticed how both men stiffened when they saw each other.  He had never seen his son react so to another man before, and he wondered if Victoria was responsible.  All though his son had never said the words, Alejandro knew that his heir was in love with the tavern owner.  He doubted Gilberto even knew the depths of his own feelings, and Alejandro heard the rumors about Victoria and the emissary that were floating around the small _pueblo_.  Knowing Victoria, he doubted their truth, but maybe Gilberto was being blinded by jealousy.

Resendo looked around the room, a true appreciation for the beauty of the house in his eyes.  "Magnificent _hacienda_!  How long have you lived here?"

Alejandro remembered the first time he saw this land.  Its size frightened him, even as it excited him.  His father had laughed and swung his mother around the field where the _hacienda _now sat.  A young Alejandro saw the fear in her eyes, but his enthralled father had not noticed.  He still admired his mother for her courage, for it had far more difficult on her than it had been on them, to move to this wilderness.  "For many years, ever since my father first arrived and worked the land."

"Indeed, but I'm afraid that your fellow Los Angelinos will not let you justify your failure to pay taxes on the backs of your ancestors!"  Alejandro stiffened, managing to keep in the protest that he worked as hard, if not harder, than his father.  He refused to let this man see any of his vulnerability.  "You see the mere _threat_ of my seizing Church property, nearly caused a riot earlier today, and since a part of my responsibility is to prevent civil insurrection, the will of the people must be taken into account.  Lieutenant Hidalgo, if you please."

Uneasy, Alejandro watched as the stiff man walked over to the door and opened it.  He closed his eyes in resignation as the room filled with soldiers and their guns. 

Stiffening his back in preparation, he waited for the words that would evict him from his father's home.  "Alejandro de la Vega, with the power invested in me by King Ferdinand, I hereby seize this _hacienda_ and all adjacent properties."


	7. Gilberto Fights Back

Late the next morning, Diego awoke in the de la Vega hacienda, and allowed himself a few minutes to enjoy the feeling of being

Late the next morning, Diego awoke in the de la Vega _hacienda_, and allowed himself a few minutes to enjoy the feeling of being home.  His father and grandfather built this house.  His father and mother lived in this home for most of their married life.  He had stayed awake, long into the night, examining the various pieces that made up his history.  He had found a cameo of his mother in the library and cried.  He was finally seeing the face of the woman who had borne him, and he could finally glimpse from where he and Gilberto inherited their looks.

Getting up to continue his exploration, he found Julian in the library reading a book.  If things had been normal between them, he would have teased his friend.  Diego was the reader between the two, and he had spent many hours cajoling his friend into reading various books.  Diego smiled when he noticed the title--_Robin Hood_.  He had read it Madrid and talked about it constantly with Julian on the ship.

Diego sat down with his paper and quill.  Taking a deep breath, he began his short letter to his mother.  

Dear Mother,

I am doing well.  I hope that you are also doing better.  Please let me know what the doctors have to say.  

You will be pleased to know that I am sitting in the de la Vega _hacienda_, just as you dreamed all these years.  It is beautiful, and I hope that you may join me in seeing it soon.

Your Son,

Diego

Well, at least that letter was done.  He had little to say to the woman who had agreed to take him from the de la Vegas instead of allowing him to be put into an orphanage or a home for the sick.  He owed her a great deal for that alone.  She brought him into her family, in a way.  After she mentioned her brother to her then ten-year old son, he took it upon himself to write to the man.  Fortunately, that man had had more sense than his sister.  After looking at the horrible conditions that they were living in, Diego's uncle immediately began packing them up to take them home with him.  Diego did not dare let himself wonder how his life might have been had he not made the fateful decision to write that letter.

Uncle Felipe was not a man of great wealth, but he had a shop.  He insisted that the young man attend the local school that the monks offered, and struggled desperately to keep him away from the criminal element that he had earlier fallen into as a means of survival.  Uncle Felipe had not been totally successful, but then that had been for the best.

Because one day, Diego tried to pick the pocket of a well-dressed Englishman.  Sir Edmund apparently saw something in that boy that he liked, and insisted on meeting his family.  Uncle Felipe had not been pleased with the assumptions of the Englishman, and Sir Edmund realized his mistakes soon enough.  They both agreed, however, that Diego's mind was being wasted.  So, a fourteen-year old Diego began training with a saber, as well as tutoring lessons with Sir Edmund.  The man even paid for his years of study at the University.  Diego would always be in both men's debt.

Dear Uncle Felipe,

I am doing well, and pray that you are, too.  I received a letter from Bebe saying that you are misbehaving, but I know that is her usual concern for her father.  

I'm here, Uncle.  In Los Angeles.  A place I never expected to find myself.  When the King's men first approached me with the assignment, I planned to refuse, but then I talked to Mother and realized I couldn't deny her this one request.  I pray that I will manage to survive it with my soul intact.

Nothing here is how I envisioned it.  I have found myself falling in love with the land.  It is so beautiful, in its own untamed way.  The people have strength, a will to survive, that I find remarkable.  

My father has also been nothing like I expected.  I find myself doubting my course of action, and you know me well enough to know that never happens!  Gilberto has been a lazy, weak man that I can find nothing about to admire or even like.  How can two men so close in the womb turn out so different in life?  

I wish that you were here with me right now, giving that special brand of advice that only you give or understand.  For the first time in my life, Uncle, I feel like I am home, and it frightens me.

Yours, 

Diego

"Are you okay?"  Julian asked as he addressed the envelopes.  

Diego's hand shook a little as he wrote his uncle's address.  He had almost mentioned Victoria in his letter.  He'd have to get over her charm or he was going to go mad.  "I'm fine.  Just writing letters to Mother and Uncle Felipe."

"Letting them know you are here?"  

Diego looked up at his friend and saw compassion in those eyes instead of anger.  He nodded.  "I had to let Mother know as soon as possible."

The old Julian would have let the subject drop with that, but this new person refused to let questions go unasked.  "Why?"

Sighing, Diego walked over to the fireplace mantel, and leaned against it.  "There's something I didn't tell you in Madrid."

Julian sat down his book and leaned back in his chair.  "I've already figured that out, my friend."

"Mother's dying."

Julian gasped, but did not offer his sympathies.  He understood how mixed Diego's feelings were about the woman who had been his real mother's midwife.  She was _loco_, and Diego spent most of his childhood taking care of her, but she had never been satisfied by him, always demanding more.  "So, this is to fulfill a dying wish," he realized.

Diego nodded.  "I could not deny her this one thing."

If Julian begged to differ, he kept his mouth shut.  "Have you ever considered asking your father?"

Diego's laugh was hollow.  "What?  'Excuse me, Sir, but you did give away a small baby to a slightly mad lady?  And, if so, why?'"

"Why not?  At least then you would know for sure."  Diego just stared at him for a minute.

Felipe, a young servant boy of the de la Vegas, entered the room.  He walked over to the corner where Diego's muddy boots still rested from the night before, and began to clean them.  Diego looked over at Julian, confused, who only shrugged back at them.  He walked over to the boy and gently patted him on the back.  _Don_ Alejandro, before he left, made sure that Diego understood the boy was both deaf and mute.  It warmed his heart that the old man was so concerned about one servant.

"What are you doing?" he asked the boy, making sure to pronounce each word carefully.

Felipe signed that he was cleaning the boots.  Diego laughed.  That answer was obvious.  "I can clean my own boots, thank you.  You have been working all morning without a break.  Sit down, read, do something relaxing," he ordered the boy.

The servant looked at him, confused.  "You do know how to read?"  The boy nodded and signed that _Don_ Alejandro had taught him.  "You really love that man, don't you?"  The boy nodded enthusiastically.  "What about _Don _Gilberto?"  Felipe was silent for a moment and then signed that the man was a good master.  Diego nodded his head.  "Your loyalty is to be admired, my friend, but your slowness in answering had a lot to say in itself."

He heard Julian laughing behind him.  "How on earth do you understand what he's saying?"  Diego looked down at Felipe and was surprised to notice that his hand was on the boy's shoulder.  Laughing, he shrugged.  "I don't know.  It seemed obvious to me what he was meaning."

"Really?  Everyone says that _Don_ Alejandro understands him better than anyone, and I don't think he usually understands him that easy," Julian said.

"Then, maybe, I am just imagining what I think he is saying," Diego answered mildly and chose one of the many books on the shelf for himself.  "Or maybe I'm the only person in the world who can understand _Felipes_.  Everyone always says that I'm the only one in the world who can fully comprehend Uncle Felipe!"  Julian laughed, and then the three of them spent the rest of the afternoon reading quietly together.

***

That night, Felipe entered the library, carefully listening to the laughing of the emissary and his lieutenant.  _Don_ Diego was a surprise to him.  Knowing how upset his patron had been at the actions of the man, he had expected to hate him.  A man who would hurt the church for money was not a good man, but _Don _Diego was--seemed to be a good man.  He had thrown _Don _Alejandro out of his home, but he appreciated the history and the beauty of the _hacienda, _making sure that all the servants were comfortable.  It was a contradiction, but then Felipe was use to living in a world of contrasts.

Looking over his shoulder, he slipped into the secret passageway.  He started when he noticed _Don _Gilberto standing there.  "They still in the house?"  He nodded.  Gilberto had a hard time understanding his signs, so he tried not to use them unless it was an emergency.  Fortunately, Gilberto seldom asked questions that required more than a shake of his head as an answer anyway.

Gilberto turned, grunting his impatience.  "He's like a Gordian knot that I long to cut!  I don't know why that man--" Felipe was used to listening to Gilberto's tirades.  The man did not know that this mute servant could hear, so he thought it was safe to share his thoughts.  Felipe would never share those secrets he revealed, but he knew that the young de la Vega heir would never believe it if he found out that Felipe could hear.  He seemed to make the mistake of thinking deaf and dumb had something to do with mental abilities.

"Victoria, my dear Victoria, has resisted my every advance for almost a decade!  He comes into the _pueblo_, and she's kissing him that same night!"  Felipe barely kept his reaction in check.  Victoria's instincts were usually perfect when it came to people, and if she was actually kissing _Don_ Diego that soon then she must believe him to be a good person.  He would have to go to the _pueblo_ later to see if he could over hear any gossip.  Gilberto's view was often distorted.  _Don_ Diego could have been kissing Victoria, who hated every minute of it.  Perhaps it was for the best that the man was now in the de la Vega _hacienda _instead of her tavern.

"Why can't she _love_ me?  Why can't my father love me?  I go out as Zorro and they fear me, but they don't respect me.  I risk my life for them!"  Gilberto picked up a vase and began to toss it in the air.  Pacing, he continued to speak.  "Oh, they will defend me when the pressure is high, and warn me about the _alcalde_--not that I need it.  The bumbling fool usually lets me know his every move before he makes it!"

Only years of practice kept Felipe from jumping when the vase smashed against the wall.  Gilberto turned to look at him.  "I try, Felipe.  I honestly _try _to care about those people.  I want to love this _pueblo_ like my father and my grandfather!  I just _don't_ feel like I belong here.  I love Madrid and the soft beds and easy company."  Sighing, Gilberto sat down on the steps.  "I really try."

Felipe wished he could hug the man, but he knew _Don_ Gilberto would not accept comfort from a servant.  He, better than anyone, probably even _Don_ Gilberto, knew the man.  He understood all the man's faults as well as all his strengths.  He had been present after all of Zorro's rides, and had heard all the self-condemning talks when Gilberto made a mistake.  The younger de la Vega wanted to do well, but unlike his father, it did not come naturally to him to be concerned about his fellow mankind.

Finally, Gilberto looked up at Felipe and smiled grimly.  "I think it's time for Zorro to get rid of this walking pestilence."  He nodded and walked over to help his _patron_ dress in the familiar black outfit.


	8. Julian Disobeys

At the dinner table, a content Diego leaned back in his chair

At the dinner table, a content Diego leaned back in his chair.  He and Julian were getting back to familiar footing, and he enjoyed this house.  While he was here, he could pretend that the outside world did not exist, but he knew it did, and it would all too soon intrude into his paradise.  For once in his life, he made the decision not to worry about the future--at least, not much anyway.

"Do you love her?"  His words rushed out, running over each other, in an effort to get out the question that hounded him all day.

Julian grinned and picked up his glass.  "Yes, I do."  He took a sip of his wine as Diego's gut clenched.  He was not sure he could give up Victoria, even for his friendship with Julian.  It frightened him--Julian had been his best friend for over fifteen years--and then brown eyes met blue.  "As a sister."  Diego let out a quick breath.  "I think she would make my best friend a wonderful wife."

Diego tried to smile and his laugh was forced.  "You must have swamp fever, _amigo_, because you know that I am not the marrying kind."

Julian sipped on his wine.  "Actually, I always thought _I_ wasn't the marrying type.  _You_, on the other hand, I always thought, was the type of man who needed to be married."

"Julian, I am a soldier, an adventure seeker.  I'm hardly the type of man that makes a good husband."  Diego's laugh was one of amazement.

Julian put down his glass and leaned forward on his arms.  "You have spent most of your life running, Diego, I agree.  I enjoy our life, but you, you just exist in it."

"Julian--"

"Diego, your mother and your father and Ynez Resendo left big holes in your soul."  He leaned forward more.  "I think you were starting to see past that though.  You were beginning to laugh more and watching children play.  When you told me were coming here, I thought about transferring."  Diego's head snapped back in shock.  Julian had followed him, without question, for over a decade.

His friend sighed.  "Not because I wasn't loyal to you, Diego.  You know that my loyalty will always be with you.  You taught me--everything.  I am what I am, because of you and your patience."  Julian looked over at Diego's slumped shoulders.  "I knew that there was a possibility that this place would destroy you.  If you don't get your answers, Diego, you will spend the rest of your life running.  And, while I'll admit, there is a part of me that likes the idea of you and I together to the end, I know a truth about you that you have never admitted."

Diego looked at him, waiting for him to finish.  "You may have managed to convince yourself that you are a soldier here," he said, pointing at Diego's head.  He moved his finger to where Diego's heart beat.  "But you will never be able to convince here that you are one."

"I'm a damn good soldier," he flatly declared.

Julian laughed.  "Of course you are!  You are Colonel Diego Resendo, the man the King sends to get the job done.  Ability is not a question!  It's about your heart, your passion, Diego.  You remain a soldier because you _are_ good at it, and you know someone needs to do it."

Diego took a gulp of his wine as his friend leaned even closer.  "Ask him!  Maybe he did give you up.  Maybe he got scared at the thought of taking care of a son with a twisted leg.  Even the bravest man sometimes lets fear win."  Diego did not respond.  "You forgave me."

"You were scared--"

"Exactly!"  Julian shouted while keeping his voice low.  "I was scared, and I ran in battle, Diego.  You never reported me for breaking formation."

Diego ran his hand through his hair.  "I can understand how a man can get frightened by a battle, especially his first one, Julian.  How can he be frightened by a child?"

His friend smiled, leaning back in his chair.  "I don't know, Diego.  Men seemed to be more afraid of young ones than they are of dying sometimes.  Imagine I had a crying baby in my arms.  Would you want to take it and raise it or go out and fight a duel?"

Diego gave a weak smile of acknowledgement.  "Your point is made, _amigo_."  His fingers moved up and down the glass sitting in front of him.  "What if he still doesn't want anything to do with me?"

"Then, my friend, you grab Victoria, tell you love her, and head out of this tiny little hole in the wall, and never come back," Julian answered.  "The demons in your mind are bigger than they could possibly be in real life.  Go and face them."

Diego smiled.  "I'm still not the marrying type."

Laughing, Julian shook his head and refilled their glasses.  "I guess we will have to agree to disagree, _amigo_."

"I've taken care of enough people in my lifetime, Julian," Diego said, admitting something he seldom ever allowed himself to admit.  His voice was tired as he explained, "Between Mother and Uncle Felipe and his children--"

His Lieutenant nodded, sitting down the bottle.  "And me and the men.  But, Diego, you _like_ taking care of people.  I was thinking earlier that you would make a fine Zorro!"

Diego's laughter rang through the house.  "Me, a masked outlaw with a six thousand _peso_ reward on his head?  Not in this lifetime!"

***

A few minutes, later, each man got up from the table and began to walk towards the library.  "Yes, Victoria would make you a fine wife."  Julian's brown eyes twinkled as he spoke.  

He sighed.  "Please, Julian.  I have no interest in getting married."

His friend ignored him.  "You were meant to have a wife and some children around you to love and take care of, I think.  Yes, she would make you a fine wife."  His eyes met Diego's exasperated ones.  "And, she's the first woman who's been strong enough to take care of you, too!"  Diego's gaze fell to look at the floor, signaling his refusal to discuss it.  It did not matter.  Julian would bring it up later.  He could be like a dog with a bone sometimes.

*** 

A nervous Felipe slipped into the library.  Grabbing up the book he was reading earlier, he sat down.  He could hear the sounds of footsteps approaching, and he did not want the emissary to become suspicious.  He knew Gilberto was smart enough not to kill the men--the King's wrath would be impossible to avoid if he did--but he worried that Gilberto's jealousy would make him do something stupid.

He flinched when Diego's hand rested on his shoulder.  He looked up into kind blue eyes.  "Felipe, have you eaten?"

He sat for a moment, surprised by the question.  _Don _Alejandro was the only one who ever worried about him eating, since his son never bothered to worry about the servants.  It was amazing that a Spanish Royal Emissary would be concerned about his eating habits.  He nodded, thinking of the apple he had eaten earlier.  Diego smiled, as if knowing how little he had eaten.  "There was no way that Julian and I could finish the quail.  Why don't you go finish eating it for us?"

Felipe looked in the direction of the dinning room.  To eat at the main table?  To have quail, the delicate birds that were a staple in a _caballero_'s dinner?  He could not believe it.  _Don_ Diego held even more surprises than _Don_ Gilberto.  It was only Felipe's strength of will that prevented him from looking at the fireplace.  He did not know what to do.

"He'll get supper later!"  A harsh voice filled the room.  Diego and his lieutenant turned in surprise.  Felipe saw the emissary's eyes move across the wall behind the outlaw, as if looking for a secret entranceway.  

He watched, stunned, as _Don_ Diego simply crossed his arms and leaned his hip against a chair.  "You don't seem to like the idea of him eating, Zorro.  He's just a young boy.  What could he have done to you?"  He had never seen anyone act so arrogantly and unafraid around Zorro.

Noticing the anger in Zorro's eyes, he prayed that _Don_ Diego would show some respect.  He liked the man, and he did not want to see him hurt.  Gilberto had done more than his fair share of stupid acts in the midst of anger.  He always later regretted them, but it did not prevent him from making other mistakes later.  

"It is _you_, _Señor, _that I don't like much."

Diego shrugged.  "Really?  What have I done to you?"  He looked over at Lieutenant Hidalgo.  "You told me that he has been interested in Victoria, but there has been no return of affection."  The other man nodded, seeming to be as unconcerned as his superior.  They both were mad!  To bring up Victoria at this moment was sure to enrage the masked man.

Unfortunately for them, Zorro did not always play fair.  A glass of brandy was tossed into Diego's eyes, blinding him.  Hidalgo jumped forward, drawing his sword.  The two men circled each other as the emissary desperately wiped his eyes.  Within a few cuts and parries, it was obvious who was the better swordsman.  The _pueblo_ now had two men who could defeat its masked saber master.  

Hidalgo knew the moves, but Zorro knew the house.  He carefully managed to guide the Lieutenant onto a small rug that _Don_ Alejandro planned to move.  It was far too slippery to stand on in the library, but it had been a gift from a friend of Gilberto's.  Lunging, the lieutenant lost his footing and fell.  Zorro picked up the brandy decanter and smashed it over his head.

Diego stood up with red eyes that he kept blinking.  Felipe knew that he had not totally regained his sight, but he was able to fight.  Grabbing a ceremonial sword that _Don _Alejandro kept on the library wall, he looked over at his friend.  "I must admit," he said after he heard his friend moan.  "That I admire your quick thinking."

Felipe was probably the only one in the room who noticed that Zorro started at the comment.  While many feared him, few complimented him.  The young servant, nervously watching the fight from outside the room, hoped it was enough to keep Gilberto in line.  

Even half-blind, Diego was a better man with his sword than even his lieutenant.  He drove the masked man out into the foyer.  Felipe had never seen someone who was so skilled before, and he admitted that he was enjoying seeing Gilberto being defeated.  Then, he thought of _Don_ Alejandro and his kindness.  The _caballero_ would be devastated to lose his only son.  Felipe could not allow the emissary to win, even if _Don _Gilberto would not appreciate his help.  Picking up a decorative plate off the wall, he swung it over the other man's head, wincing as it shattered into pieces.  The emissary fell to the ground.

He stood there waiting for Zorro to leave, but the masked man did not move.  He stared at the slumped figure, hate radiating from him like heat does from a fire.  The young boy struggled to think of some way to protect the defenseless man, fearing what would happen if the King heard his favorite soldier had been killed in Los Angeles.  _Don _Diego had been too kind for Felipe to allow Gilberto to murder him in a jealous rage.  Besides, the masked man would be remorseful later about killing an unarmed man.

Fortunately for him, Hidalgo woke up to see his friend in danger.  He lurched to his feet and raced towards Zorro.  His sword stopped the masked man's downward swing, and they began to fight away from Diego's unconscious body.  Hidalgo was a better fighter, but he was dazed from the earlier battle, so Zorro managed to knock the sword from his hand.  

Zorro turned again towards Diego, who was beginning to awaken.  Felipe cheered silently when Hidalgo jumped onto the outlaw's back in an effort to protect his commander.  The young servant enjoyed seeing the loyalty between these two.  _Don_ Alejandro taught it to him, but he saw very few other examples in Los Angeles.  Mendoza was loyal, but the _alcalde_ treated him unfairly.  Victoria was loyal to those she loved, as well as the _pueblo_, but many people still spread lies about her.  Diego and Hidalgo both were loyal to one another, and it gave Felipe hope.  Maybe he should consider joining the army himself after _Don_ Alejandro left this world.

He was the only person to hear the door open.  He turned to see the _alcalde _aiming at Zorro's back.  He struggled to force a word of warning from his lips.  The blast made him jump, and he watched in horror as Hidalgo stiffened and then fell to the floor, shot in the back.

Moaning, the emissary raised himself up on one elbow.  He flinched as the masked man ran past him, but then his eyes rested on the still form of his lieutenant.  He lay there, totally unmoving for a moment.  Then, he jumped up and rushed over to his friend.

Gathering his friend in his arms, he gently turned the other man around and held him tight.  Felipe, through his own tears, could see the blood staining the emissary's white pants.  Rocking him back and forth, Diego talked to the dying man.  "If you want to stay here, that's fine, Julian, but you do it alive!  You do it married, with those children.  I won't leave you here in this _pueblo_'s graveyard.  Do you hear me?  You are not going to die on me, Julian!  That's an order!"

Diego later told Felipe it was the only order that Lieutenant Julian Hidalgo ever disobeyed.


	9. Victoria Takes a Chance

Reaching over to pick up her candle, Victoria stopped

Reaching over to pick up her candle, Victoria stopped.  She turned to look at the door, wondering if the light tap she heard was her imagination.  Shaking her head, she drew her shawl closer to her shoulders and walked over to the barred entrance.  Years of experience were behind her quick movements and the large doors opened without a sound.

Shivering, she gathered her shawl tighter.  He was there, the man who had walked into her life and turned it upside down.  She opened her mouth to tell him that they had no rooms--the one he had vacated earlier had already been let out due to his recent _eviction_ activities.

His eyes stopped her.  The earlier anger and confusion were gone, replaced by a pain that made Victoria gasp in shared sympathy.  "What happened?"

He swayed, exhaustion reeking from his every movement.  "I know that you probably don't want me here.  I can't blame you--"

Her hand gently pulled him into the tavern, cutting him off before he could finish speaking.  She locked the door behind them, snapping the large piece of lumber into place.  Leading him to a table, she gently forced him to sit.  Diego sat, unmoving, starring into space, as she poured him a glass of wine.  When she tried to hand it to him, he shuddered at the sight of the blood red liquid.  "_Tequila_, please."

Her eyebrows shot up.  Even though Diego was in the army, she had a hard time seeing him as someone who drank more than an occasional glass of wine, but she poured him the glass of _tequila_ without comment.

Drinking the entire shot in one gulp, Diego again shuddered as the liquid coursed its way down into his belly.  He handed her the glass.  "Another."

"No."  She sat down beside him, silently asking him what was wrong.

Running his hands through his hair, Diego sighed.  "I'm not in the mood to fight with you."

Reaching over, Victoria lightly clasped his chin and drew his face over so she could look into his eyes.  "Good, because I'm not in the mood to fight with you, either.  What's happened?"

Shaking slightly, he closed his eyes.  "He's gone."

"Who?"

"Julian."  She could not stop the surprise gasp that escaped her lips.  "Zorro shot him.  In the back."  Diego was beginning to shake violently, and she realized that he was in shock.  She hugged him to her warm body, and he wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to him.  Whispering nonsensical words, she lightly feathered her fingers through his hair until he became calm.

He pulled away, embarrassment bright on his face.  "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Victoria felt like she was walking on the edge of a cliff.  This man's eyes, his soul, seemed to cry out to her, and she found it impossible to resist its quiet urgings.  She should hate this man for what he had done, and she disliked most soldiers, except for Mendoza.  "Don't be.  He was a good man.  You are right to mourn him."

"He was a great man!  My best friend."  Diego's pain laced his soft words.  Covering his eyes, he said, "I never expected Zorro to do something as stupid as killing a royal guardsman."

"Shooting a man in the back doesn't sound like Zorro, either," Victoria said, taking a sip of wine. She never enjoyed talking about the _pueblo's _masked bandit.

Diego looked over at her.  "He's killed before."

"True."  Nodding, she took another sip of wine.  "But usually, he likes the challenge.  I'm not sure that he's ever killed an unarmed man before, and I'm surprised that Lieutenant Hidalgo made him so angry."

Ice-blue eyes, with pain and guilt laced throughout them, met hers.  They seemed to freeze her, keeping her from bringing the glass back to her lips.  "Do you love him?"

Letting out a deep breath, she finished taking her drink, realizing why she never liked to talk about Zorro.  "I do love a part of him.  The night he rescued _Don _Alejandro and me from that jail cell, I thought, 'This is the one!'  He seemed to be the accumulation of all my dreams, Diego."  A sad smile broke through her tight lips.  "And then--"

"Don Rafael's fiancée."

Victoria shook her head gently.  "Everyone blames his seduction of that poor child for my refusal to have anything to do with him romantically, but I had already grown disenchanted with him before that day.  He had done--and does--a lot of great things, but for the wrong reasons."

"He likes the fear, the respect, the prestige?"  He had noticed the same characterization himself.  It was why he was so careful to taunt the man with his lack of fear and respect, but his arrogant belief that he knew how far he could push had gotten Julian killed.

She put down her glass.  "He wasn't really doing it for the people or for justice, but for himself."

Diego winced.  "Lucky fellow, I guess.  Until recently, I've spent my entire life doing what everyone else wanted of me.  I always took care of those dependent on me."  His laugh was hollow.  "Oh, who am I kidding?  I'm still following someone else's dream."

She squeezed his hand and looked around the tavern.  "I understand.  After my mother--after my mother died, I took care of this place, sending money to my father and brothers as they needed it."

"They left you alone?"  He made it sound like she had experienced the worst childhood ever, even though she had a strong suspicion that his childhood had been far worse.

"I was fifteen," she said, shrugging, as if fifteen were an ancient age.

Diego gently stroked her cheek, his eyes telling her he understood the terror of being a child, left alone by adults to deal with adult problems.  Victoria felt like she was drowning in his eyes.  His lips met hers--or maybe she kissed him, she could not tell.  His lips slowly caressed her and then his tongue softly pushed its way into her mouth.  She moaned.  After several minutes that felt like an eternity, Diego pulled away from her.  She kept her eyes closed, managing to keep herself from whimpering.

His breath caressed her hair.  "Send me away," he pleaded.  "I won't be satisfied with a few kisses tonight."

A little voice in her head warned that she was heading for heartache, but she ignored it.  She opened her eyes and looked at his tight features, the strain he was feeling etched in the lines around his eyes.  He was not Zorro, but he was the right man--even if she could only have him for a few days.  She leaned forward and kissed him again.  Diego's groan told her that he was quickly forgetting any foolish thoughts about nobility.

***

Exhausted, Diego held the woman in his arms tightly to his chest.  The wonderful smell of lemons and dust and fresh air filled his nostrils as he breathed in the scent of her hair.  Softly stroking her back, he told himself that the hot tears streaming down his face were drops of sweat, but he knew the truth.  He was crying.  The strong, invincible Diego Resendo was crying, and not all the tears were for Julian.

He thought of all the men had had fought and challenged over the years.  Would they be amazed or angry that this small woman had managed to do what they had never been able to do--driving Diego to his knees?  He stopped himself from trembling as he felt the soft kisses she placed on his chest.  Lying to himself, he angrily declared in his own mind that he was unconquered.

_You knew, didn't you, Julian?  You could see that I was in love with this woman.  That's what you were trying to tell me, wasn't it?_  Diego stared out that the window, noticing the pale moon was beginning her long descent into the beginning of a new day.  Tomorrow would be the first day of life without Julian.  For the first time since Uncle Felipe had arrived in his small wagon, Diego felt alone.

His eyes fell to look at the woman lying in his arms.  He was alone and in love.  Diego allowed himself to want for the first time in many years.  He wanted Sir Edmund to be here to advise him.  He wanted his Uncle Felipe here to help him laugh.  He wanted Julian alive, yelling at him for being such a fool.  He wanted . . . he wanted this woman to love him enough to leave Los Angeles, her home, forever to be with him.

Stifling a small sigh, he drew Victoria even tighter to his body.  He knew this woman well enough to know that she would never leave this place.  Like him, she understood the meaning of duty and responsibility, and this place, like his family to him, was where she believed she was needed.  His duty to his family demanded that he destroy _Don_ Alejandro, and as much as Los Angeles called to him, he would never be able to stay afterwards, and Victoria would never forgive him.

He allowed himself a brief wish that the woman he called "Mother" had died before he saw her last.  She would have never made her one dying wish, and he would have never come to Los Angeles.  His father could have died in his own bed, and Diego could have ignored the empty ache that lived in his gut from his parents' abandonment.

His thoughts drifted to the _hacienda_ he had taken last night.  It no longer seemed important to him.  He wanted to sell it, knowing the pain it would cause his father, but he could not.  His mother would just have to be satisfied with the few days of upset that he had caused _Don_ Alejandro.  Diego could not take the land away from the future generation of his family, and even though he thought his brother was an fool, he had seen enough to know that _Don_ Alejandro treated the people of this area fairly and with honor.  Maybe Julian had been right in that, too.  Diego could forgive a man for being frightened.

He would return to it tomorrow to collect his clothing.  He took a deep breath as he thought about the blood stained floor beside the door, and the bloodstained pants, seen through the haze of unshed tears and hastily thrown into a bedroom's corner.  He would return tomorrow before the funeral service for Julian and let _Don _Alejandro know that he could have his _hacienda _back.

Diego wanted to run from this _pueblo_, and from the woman in his arms, but he had unfinished business.  Tomorrow, he planned to announce that he was going to take the Church property after all.  Zorro would be unable to resist the slight, and he would appear.  Then, Diego could kill him for murdering his friends.

He heard Victoria soft sigh, and it brought his attention back to her.  "I'm sorry," were the only words he could think to say.

Victoria pushed away from him, looking into his eyes.  "For what?"

Softly caressing her face, he thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.  "You should have had silk sheets and flowers--"

"You forget, _Señor_," she began with a saucy grin on her face.  "That I am a mere barmaid.  I never dreamed of silk sheets and flowers."

Diego gazed thoughtfully into her eyes.  "You should have.  You deserve them.  You deserve more than what I want to give."

Victoria was silent for a moment.  "You are right.  I do."  Diego winced at her honesty.  "But I chose you."  

His eyes met hers, and he was thankful that she did not let her tears fall.  "I don't expect you to stay.  I know what you are and the kind of life you lead.  You'll leave here soon, and Los Angeles--and I--will be a vague memory to you."  She laid her head back down on his chest.  "You gave me no promises, Diego, and I made no demands."

Julian's words, about her being the first one strong enough to take care of him, echoed in his mind.  If he were the marrying type, he would have the priest posting bans as fast he was able.  However, he was not that kind of man and she knew it.  He would soon be leaving Los Angeles and her far behind, but for tonight they were both willing to forget that fact.  He drew her in for a kiss, forgetting everything but the feel of her in his arms.


	10. Diego Seeks Revenge

The next morning, he watched as she walked around the room, serving her customers

The next morning, he watched as she walked around the room, serving her customers.  He enjoyed studying her efficient movements and hearing her laugh.  So busy was he concentrating on her that his usually sharp instincts failed him.  He jerked back when _Don_ Alejandro's face suddenly blocked her from view.  The older man's smile was forced as he sat down in front of him.

His smile completely disappeared as he leaned across the table.  "You might be soon leaving, but she has to live here after you are gone."

Diego blushed like a schoolboy caught with his pants around his ankles.  Not wanting to look his father in the eyes, he looked down at his clean plate and began dragging his fork across it.  "I'm sorry.  I should have realized."

"Yes," _Don_ Alejandro agreed, "you should have.  The way she's looking at you is bad enough, but you are more experienced in the world and should show more . . . restraint."

Diego continued to look down at his plate, chastised.  "The gossips already talk about her too much."

He sensed, rather than saw, _Don _Alejandro nodding.  "Between _Señor_ Moralez's murder and Zorro's constant hounding, yes they do."  Diego did not say anything.  After a few minutes, _Don_ Alejandro sighed.  "I don't know what to make of you, _Señor _Resendo."

His eyes finally left his plate.  "I don't know what to make of you, either, _Don _Alejandro."  Father and son stared hard at one another.  Diego broke eye contact and reached for his glass.  "You'll be happy to know that you can have your _hacienda_ back."

It was _Don_ Alejandro's turn to be contrite.  "I'm sorry.  I heard about what happened last night, and I know the Lieutenant was a faithful friend."  Diego swallowed past the lump in his throat.  He had expected his father to show some joy about getting back his _rancho_, but the old man had again surprised him.  Instead of rejoicing, he expressed sympathy to a man who had stolen his home.

"I'll be getting my things out soon."

_Don_ Alejandro nodded.  "There's no rush.  I know the funeral is in a few hours, and I'm sure you would like to rest beforehand.  My son won't be awake until afterwards anyway."

He looked up at the steps, towards the room where his brother was sleeping, where Diego had slept upon his arrival.  "I'm surprised he sleeps so late."

The _caballero_ could not meet the soldier's eyes this time.  "He stays out late--talking to friends."

Diego had heard of his brother's reputation and understood what his father was saying.  Gilberto liked to go to late night parties and games.  "You and your son don't seem to be a lot a like."

"No," _Don_ Alejandro sighed, "we aren't, but I love him anyway."

"Why?"

His father looked at him in surprise.  "I guess you don't understand because you don't have children of your own.  The bond between a father and son is remarkable.  Although we have many differences, I see many similarities as well."  _Don _Alejandro's gaze suddenly became piercing.  "Tell me about your father.  Don't you love him?"

Diego bit his tongue to keep from gasping in pain.  _I want to love him, and I think I could very easily.  I find myself admiring you, Father.  Don't you see the similarities in us?  Are there any?_  "I never knew my father . . . until recently," he admitted.

"That's unfortunate," the _caballero_ said.  His conscious, with Julian's voice, urged him to ask the whys of his life, but years of pain and anger kept the words hidden away until it was too late.  _Don_ Alejandro stood, waved goodbye to Victoria, and then took his leave of Diego.

It was less than a half-hour later when Felipe arrived with one of his dress uniforms.  Diego sat stunned, unsure what to say or do when the boy offered it to him.  He was unsure if his father or the boy was responsible, but he was touched by the gesture more than he wanted to be.  There had only been three people in his life that had even tried to take care of him, and one of them was now dead.  Taking the uniform from Felipe's grasp, he reached out with his free hand and gripped the boy's shoulder.  Squeezing it, he said, "Thank you."  A brief nod later, the young de la Vega servant was gone.

Victoria walked over to him.  "He's a good boy."

Diego nodded, "Yes, he is."  He felt his heart beating strong in his chest, and his mouth was dry.  He had expected his reactions to her to stop after last night, but instead they were stronger.  As with his father, words he wanted to speak would not pass his lips.  So, instead of asking her to go with him to Julian's funeral, he turned away and walked upstairs to change.

***

The sun was directly overhead as he walked to the small cemetery located not far from the mission.  It was a lovely area, and he thought Julian would have found it peaceful.  The ironies in life were sometimes funny and sometimes tragic, and Diego thought that Julian might have laughed at the paradox of his death.  Julian Hidalgo, the man who loved everything about the cities, was being buried in a small _pueblo_'s graveyard.  It gave Diego peace, though, to know how much Julian had fallen in love with this area and these people. 

_"This is the first place that I have been able to imagine myself growing old, and having my children and grandchildren surrounding me on my deathbed,"_ Julian had told him.  Those children and grandchildren had not surrounded him, but he had lived here to the end of his life.  _I'm sorry_, _Julian_, Diego thought as he slowed to enter the tiny white fence that surrounded the area.  _I failed you.  You died for my mistake, but I will make sure Zorro dies for his._

Diego's heart lightened when he noticed that the men surrounded the grave.  He expected to the only mourner present, forgetting that the men loved Julian, too.  He stopped in his tracks when he noticed the citizens standing in front of the men.  His father and Felipe stood there silently beside Victoria.  

Already taut as a guitar's strings, he was unable to hide his surprise.  He saw a look of understanding from each of the three friends, and he felt his own eyes water.  They were here for him, these strangers who barely knew him.  Smiling with trembling lips, he walked to stand next to Victoria.  Diego drew in a deep breath and drew himself up into a stance of attention.  Stiffly, he nodded to _Padre_ Benitez, and the service began.

He did not hear any of the words:  His thoughts were on Julian, remembering the wild antics at University and the serious moments of unity on the battlefield.  He stifled a laugh when he thought about the look of amazement on Julian's face after Diego knocked him flat to the ground in one punch.  Julian had deserved it, and he knew it, but he had never met anyone who could beat him before that day.  "One of the most important lessons of my life, _amigo_," he had admitted once, and then only after several shots of _tequila_.  Julian's words slurred together as he spoke.  "After that, I always knew that someone out there might be better. Made me more cautious.  By hitting me that day, Diego, you saved my life."

_And now_, he thought, _I've killed you by my blind arrogance!  I'm so sorry, Julian._  

"May the Lord God enfold him in his infinite mercy.  Amen," the _Padre_'s voice interrupted his self-condemnation.  He realized that the service was over.

"Lancers, prepare to fire," he heard Sergeant Mendoza order.  Julian had been right about him being a good man.  "Fire!"  Shots echoed over the once-quiet cemetery.  Diego jumped, remembrances of battles still too fresh in his mind.

He turned to look at the citizens of Los Angeles who had attended the service.  He was startled to notice that others besides his father, Victoria, and Felipe had attended.  _Señor _Pedalta was even among the mourners.  Diego did not know why he was surprised--Julian always made friends wherever he went, and Los Angeles had been no exception.

Unable to meet his father's eyes, he stiffly bowed before him.  "Thank you for attending, _Don_ Alejandro.  I know that Julian would have been honored."

"It's the least I could do," he murmured.  Diego nodded and began to walk away.  "_Señor_, you have not told us how you plan to collect the remainder of the tax money."

Diego stopped in his tracks.  He closed his eyes, wishing he could be anywhere but here.  He knew his plan, but he did not know these people well enough to share it.  For all he knew, one or all of them might know who Zorro was, and he could not risk having the outlaw learn of his strategy.  Diego wanted revenge, and he would get it.

Putting on the mask that had helped him over the years, Diego turned to look at the people standing next to Julian's grave.  He knew what they were seeing:  a face so stiff that it looked like it could have been carved out of stone and eyes that were freezing them in the warm air.  "Why, I plan to sell the church's property, of course."  

Victoria acted as if he had slapped her.  He wanted to reach out, to reassure her, that he would find the money somewhere else-- he would use the reward money from Zorro's capture to pay the tax himself, but he did not.  Instead, he turned and walked away from the people who had somehow managed to find a place in his heart.


	11. A New Zorro

She was waiting for him when he returned to the tavern

She was waiting for him when he returned to the tavern.  Lightening quick reflexes stopped her hand as it swung towards his face.  "You don't want to do that," he warned.

Yanking her wrist away from his hold, Victoria turned away from him in an effort to hide her hurt.  She had never felt so confused in her life.  Her heart told her that she loved this man, that he had a good heart and spirit, but her mind told her that he was evil.  His dislike for _Don_ Alejandro, the kind man who had become like a second father, was obvious to her, if to no one else. 

Hugging herself tightly, she stopped herself from shaking.  Spinning around to face her tormentor, she cried.  "I don't understand you!"

Diego sat down with a nonchalance she knew was false, just as she believed his cold face earlier had been an act.  His masks, while invisible, were better at hiding the man beneath them than Zorro's was.  She sank down in front of him; despair showing in the way she held her body and in her voice.  "Part of me--A part of me says that you are a good man, that you would not harm the Church for those taxes.  Then, another part of me yells out inside that I am being dim-witted.  Everyone has heard of the _great_ Diego Resendo, friend to the King, and he is not known for being polite."

Diego's eyes were dull.  "I guess you are going to have to decide whether you trust me or not."

Victoria could no longer hold back the tears.  "I don't know!  I _don't _know if I should trust you."

Standing suddenly, he walked to stand in front of her.  He gently drew her up into his arms, and Victoria did not have the strength to fight him.  "I don't know if you should trust me, either," he admitted.

Gently cupping her cheeks in his hands, he lifted her face to look at him.  He leaned forward and softly kissed her closed eyelids, as if to take away the tears.  Victoria opened her eyes to look at him, and realized the horrible truth.  She loved this man.

His eyes caressed her face.  When his eyes met hers, the feeling flowed through her that he could read her soul.  His thumbs delicately wiped away the traces of her tears.  "I don't want to love you, either," he whispered.  Before Victoria had time to react, or even think about what he meant, Diego turned away from her and walked up the steps without even one backward glance.

***

The first thing he noticed was the absence of blood.  Diego felt an irrational anger at the de la Vega servant that had mopped up the blood from the foyer.  He felt like everyone was trying to erase Julian, but he knew it was not true.  His emotions were out of control.  The always calm, cool, collected Diego was an emotional basket case after his earlier confrontation with Victoria.  

Instead of heading to the bedroom that contained his trunk and clothes, he turned to walk into the library.  It was his favorite room in the _hacienda_.  Looking at the books laying in the recessed bookcases standing next to the fireplace, it was obvious what drew him here.  Since he had been taught to read, he had found comfort in books.  They whispered secrets of how the world worked, and they told him stories of courageous heroes and loving families.  

It was not only the books that made him love this room.  The memories of the previous afternoon were also precious.  Had it only been twenty-four hours since he had sat in this room with Julian and Felipe?  It seemed more like a lifetime ago to him.  

Before coming to Los Angeles, he would have told anyone that he had lost all of his innocence years ago, but he had had more ripped away from him yesterday.  He had never lost anyone close to him to death before Julian.  

He noticed the small painting of his mother on the mantel.  Diego walked slowly over and reverently lifted it up to get a closer look at it.  He had heard the stories, from his father's friends in Madrid, about this woman.  Most of them had spoken in hushed tones about her beauty and her fire.  Diego was convinced that over half of _Don_ Alejandro's friends had been in love with her themselves.  

A small click echoed in the silence of the room.  Diego twitched in surprise, but he was sure that the stunned look on Felipe's face was even greater than his own.  The boy jumped back and the door in the fireplace closed.  Diego stood there, with his jaw slack, for a few seconds.  Bending down, he reached for and pushed on the door.  It did not budge.  

Pulling back, he looked around the mantel.  He had seen some secret rooms whose entrances were books on the shelf, but he doubted this was the case.  The books he had seen on the bookcase where published within the last thirty years, and he suspected that the passageway had been built with the house.  He scanned the shelves anyway, looking for one book that looked less worn than the others.  All of them, however, looked well read.

His eyes scanned around the fireplace as he set his mother's picture back down.  If his grandfather thought like he did, he would have put the latch somewhere convenient, somewhere close at hand.  It would be somewhere on the mantel where a person could just tap it and walk on into the room behind the door.  He would have put it . . ..

Diego grinned as he felt the wood underneath his hands give slightly.  The door swung open, and he rushed through it.  He felt like a kid making a new discovery about the world.  His Uncle Felipe had always found his love of secret hiding places amusing and exasperating.

He turned the corner and saw the young servant, Felipe.  "Stop!" was out of his mouth before he thought.  The boy stopped as if he had heard.  It was impossible for him to have seen Diego, because his back was to him at the moment.

Diego's eyes stayed on the trembling figure before him.  "You heard me," he said as he walked towards the young servant.  Felipe turned, trembling and obviously unsure what to say.  "You can hear."

It was then that Diego noticed the rest of the room.  He admitted that he found some of the room distasteful--such as the drawings of _señoritas_ in various states of dress that his brother had attached to the wall--but he thought it had potential.  The workbench with various experiments on it wetted Diego's scientific curiosity and envy; he wished he had the space and the time to work on some of the many scientific papers he wanted to write.  

It was his eyes rested on the black outfit hanging on a coat tree that he realized why Felipe seemed to be so frightened by his presence.  He was in Zorro's lair and the boy knew it.  Without even trying, he had tracked down his enemy.  He would go upstairs to get his spare pistol in his trunk and wait for the--.

He sat down heavily on the only chair in the cave.  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words were heard.  Instead, a strange, half-strangled gasp emerged.  Diego's eyes met the nervous brown eyes staring at him, and tried once again to speak.  "G-G-Gilberto is Zorro?"

Felipe looked down, shifting back and forth from foot to foot.  Diego leaned back in the chair, his mind whirling from the secret he had just learned.  "My brother killed Julian," he gasped, talking to himself.  He struggled to understand the truth.

He looked up after Felipe grabbed his arm.  His mute friend was violently shaking his head.  "Zorro--Gilberto killed Julian," Diego repeated.

Felipe motioned with his hands, pointing at his own shoulder.  "The _alcalde_?"  The boy nodded his head, and Diego shook his.  "That's makes no sense.  DeSoto might have reason enough to want to kill me, but Julian--"

Watching, he realized what Felipe was struggling to show him in his signs.  "Zorro and Julian were fighting.  The _alcalde _tried to shoot Zorro, but Julian--Julian got in the way."

His conscious, using Ynez Resendo's voice, told him he should still seek revenge, but then his mother wanted to strike back at everyone from the King to the lady across the street who happened to look better than her.  He had spent his life struggling against her _loco_ teachings, and he was not about to start following them now.  It had been an error, and DeSoto would pay for it--just not with his life.  Zorro had been the one person he believed he could destroy without a problem.  He was an outlaw, a murderer, and the bounty would go a long way in helping the people of Los Angeles by paying their outrageous tax bill.

Laughing, he stood and began walking about the cave.  "Ever since I came here, Felipe, I've felt like I was in a farce.  My entire life has been--My entire life makes no sense to me right now.  I don't know who is right and who is wrong."  He grabbed the mask.  He held it up, giggling.  "Gilberto de la Vega, my br--Gilberto is Zorro!"

He stopped laughing, staring down at the mask lying in his hands.  "Felipe, does fa--_Don _Alejandro know?  Really?  I'm surprised--No, I'm not.  'Good and evil'," he murmured.  Shaking his head, he turned to toss the mask back to where it belonged.

He stopped, rubbing his fingers over the silk.  Looking in the nearby mirror, he pulled the cloth over his head.  "I am Zorro!" he said with a grin.  He noticed Felipe smiling behind him.  "Ah, you've pretended before, too?"  A quick nod was his only answer.  

Beginning to take off the mask, Diego stopped to think.  He thought of all the problems currently plaguing him, and a possible answer popped into his mind.  Some of the last words Julian spoke echoed in his mind.  _"You would make a fine Zorro!"_

The de la Vega money was still froze at the bank due to his order, since he had forgotten to take care of it earlier today.  He could test both his father and his brother while taking care of the taxes.  He had seen how much his family had in this bank alone, and knew that they could easily pay the entire tax bill themselves.  His father argued earlier for the sanctity of the Church, and now Diego would see if his father was the kind of man who would stand behind his words, even at great personal cost.   He thought he knew, but if _Don_ Alejandro passed this final test, Diego would leave Los Angeles forever.

"Felipe, saddle Toronado.  I'm going for a ride!"  As he dressed, he expected his new friend to make some kind of protest.  He waited until Diego was almost completely dressed, and then walked over to where the great stallion was, to prepare him.  Diego was unsure if it was because Felipe trusted him, or because he had little respect for _Don_ Gilberto, but Diego hoped it was the former.  His brother had turned out to be a great disappointment to him enough as it was.

***

_Ah, good ole Corporal Figueroa, _Diego thought from his perch up on the rooftop.  He could see what Zorro found so attractive about this view.  It gave him places to protect himself from flying bullets, an excellent chance to survey the area, and a truly wonderful overview of the entire area.  Los Angeles had to be located in one of the most beautiful terrains of the world.

Diego leaned forward to hear what his lancer was saying to the crowd.  "I'm sorry, but you all will have to talk to the Emissary!"

"I would like to use my money to pay the tax balance, but the bank tells me that your Emissary has frozen my accounts," he heard his father snap.  Diego's heart lightened; the man was volunteering his own money.  _Don _Alejandro was a good, kind, and honorable man who had made a horrible mistake in the past, but Diego would not punish him or this _pueblo_ for it.  

"They are free now, _Don_ Alejandro," he called.  Everyone turned and gasped in surprise as he held up the heavy bag of money.  "I personally released the de la Vega funds from the bank.  Since they are now mine, let me personally pay the taxes."  Listening to the crowd's cheers, he tossed down the bag.  It landed with a satisfying 'thump' at Figueroa's feet.  Diego noticed that even the good _padre_ was struggling to hide his smile.  The only person who did not look pleased was his brother; Gilberto's eyes flashed in anger.

Corporal Figueroa looked up at him and stuttered, "B-B-But you can't pay the tax with stolen money!"

"Why not?" asked "Zorro" and _Padre _Benitez at the same time, and the two of them shared a smile.

"I think its money well spent," his father said and the crowd cheered him.  Diego stood there for a moment, enjoying the moment.  He had made the people of Los Angeles happy and that filled him with joy.

"The E-Emissary will have your head, Zorro!" Figueroa warned.  _I must give that boy a commendation when we return to Madrid_, Diego thought as he hid his smile.

Somehow he also managed to contain the laughter bubbling up in him.  "He best be careful.  If he wants my head, he'll get the rest of me."  Silently laughing, he turned to whistle for Toronado.  He drew in another breath to whistle, hoping that the horse would respond, but he stopped when he noticed that the black stallion was patiently waiting for him.  Smiling, he waved and jumped off the building.

Riding away on Toronado, Diego felt free.  For the first time in his life, he was free.  Leaning forward, he told the horse, "If I had known putting on a mask would be so exhilarating, I would have done it years ago!"  Laughing hard, he rode towards home.


	12. Revelations

Quietly, he slipped into the open door of the tavern's kitchen

Quietly, he slipped into the open door of the tavern's kitchen.  He leaned against the wall, smiling, as he watched Victoria adding ingredients to the wonderful-smelling food in the pot.  If he did not already l--like her for her wonderful spirit and loving heart, he would have lo--like her for her wonderful cooking.  He could well imagine that Mendoza was in love--uh, liked her for it.

Turning, she almost dropped the plump tomatoes in her hand.  Diego grinned at her, forgetting for a moment that she was upset with him.  To his amazement, she returned the smile as if she was happy to see him.  "Hello," she said as began to cut the tomatoes.  

"Hello, yourself."  He walked over to stand beside her.  She handed him a knife and a tomato.  "You do know how to use that I assume?" she laughed.  Diego shook his head in amusement and began to run the knife through the ripe flesh of the fruit, admiring the skill she was showing with her own blade.  He wondered if she planned to lull him close enough so she could slice his throat, but he quickly discarded that idea.  Victoria would lung at sight.  It was how she was--direct and honest.

Picking up the dripping pieces, she turned back to her pot.  Tossing them in, she turned to look at him.  "You looked wonderful today."

Diego stood still.  "Wonderful?  Today?"

She walked slowly over to him, and he had the irrational fear that a jungle cat was stalking him.  "That, uh, costume looked very nice on you."

"C-costume?"  He did not know he could sound so innocent.

Victoria's arms surrounded his neck as she laughed.  "Oh, yes, _Don_ Diego, I must say you look very nice in black."  He tried to find the words to deny her challenge, but her lips covering his drove any thoughts out of his mind.

***

No one dared to say anything--at least not to his face.  His lancers came the closest, but even they could not ask the question.  He could tell, after their initial confusion, that they began to enjoy being waited on by him, so they forgot to ask why he was working at the tavern.  He was an excellent soldier, but he did manage to be a decent waiter, if he had to say so himself.  Maybe all the orders had not been correct, but no one had gotten a lap full of food.

Shutting the door behind her last customer, Victoria turned to look at him, her eyes laughing.  "I thought the _alcalde_ was going to choke when you brought him his dessert!"

Diego's laughter joined hers.  "Yes, I must admit that I enjoyed watching his face."

Victoria walked over to him and laid her head on his chest.  "Thank you for helping me today."

He hugged her close.  "I wanted to do it.  Today was for me."

"And tomorrow?"  She heard the dread in her voice, and he knew that she had already figured out his decision.

"Tomorrow is for the King."  It was the only answer he could give.  He needed to take his mother back to Madrid and being a soldier was all he knew.  Staying in this _pueblo_ was not even an option for him.  Sooner or later, he would have to tell his father the truth, and he could not cause the old man that pain.  Or, maybe, he admitted to himself, he could not face the idea of another possible rejection from his father.

She did not look up at him.  "You are leaving."

"Yes, tomorrow afternoon.  The tax has been collected, and the King is anxious to get his money."  She pulled away from his arms, but she refused to look at him.  She walked over to the bar and sat out two glasses.  Slowly, she pried open a bottle of wine and poured them both a drink.

Diego walked over to where she stood.  He picked up his glass, but did not drink.  "You knew this day was coming."

"I know," she answered, still not looking at him.  "It doesn't mean I don't hate it."

He reached across the bar and caressed her cheek.  "I hate it, too," he admitted.  

She managed to give him a small smile.  "I doubt that, or you wouldn't have paid the taxes today."  She was silent for a moment, obviously thinking.  Suddenly, her eyes met his, and Diego almost stepped back, knowing that she was about to ask a question he did not want to answer.  "_Why_ did you use _Don_ Alejandro's money?"

He opened his mouth to issue a lie, some claim to sufficient funds, but he could not make himself tell her an untruth tonight, the last night he would ever see her.  "I wanted to test him."

Her brow drew together, showing her confusion.  "Test him?  For what?"

"To see if he was an honorable man," he admitted, feeling a sense of relief as he shared his burden with her.

Victoria's laugh was enchanting to his ears.  "Everyone in the entire _pueblo_ could have answered that question easy enough."

"I thought he was a dishonorable man who acted like an honorable man."  Diego took a sip of his wine, ignoring the incredulous look on Victoria's face.  "I thought what he did at his son's birth was the true him."

"What he did at his--?"  Victoria gasped.  "How could you, a soldier, hold that against him?"

She knew?  "How could I not?"

"You do as the King orders and so did _Don_ Alejandro!" she snapped, setting down her glass with a snap.

The _King_ had ordered his father to give him up?  That did not make any sense.  "I don't think--I don't--"

Victoria leaned across the bar, her eyes flickering in anger.  "You go where the King commands, and so did _Don_ Alejandro.  Everyone knows how much that man regrets missing his son's birth."  _Missing his son's birth?  But--_Victoria continued to talk, interrupting his thoughts.  "He was so upset--especially after what happened to _Doña_ Elena!"

Diego felt like he was in a dream, everything seemed to be moving incredibly fast and slow at the same time.  "What happened to her?"

Victoria shook her head and leaned away from the bar.  "I thought you knew everything about Gilberto's birth."  He looked at her, waiting, and with a sigh, she told him.  "Her midwife, some odd lady, gave her a tea to drink for the pain which made her sleep.  She apparently helped birth Gilberto and then disappeared, leaving _Doña _Elena alone."

"Did you like her?"  Diego asked.

Her brow twisted in confusion.  "The midwife?  Oh, you mean _Doña_ Elena.  Of course!  Everyone here loved her.  She managed to change all of Los Angeles.  My mother used to tell stories about her working with the gentleman to teach them manners.  It used to be a lot rougher _pueblo_ before she came here with _Don_ Alejandro."

She giggled.  "I remember her talking about Gilberto's birth once.  She said she was so excited that she dreamed she gave birth to him before he was born.  She said her poor body had to go through all that pain twice.  It took her a long time to recover, and her family blamed the midwife, which was why _Don_ Alejandro left the army.  He said he would never again leave her so vulnerable."

Leaning his head back, he drank all the wine in his glass.  He set it down, resisting an insane urge to laugh.  _You were right in this, too, Julian.  Mother even lied about him_, he told his friend.  He could imagine his friend, laughing, answering, _"I told you so!"_

He noticed that Victoria was looking at him strangely.  He smiled weakly in her direction to let her know that he was all right.  He strolled around the counter as Victoria laughingly backed away from him.  Feeling free, he chuckled as he drew her into his arms, because today was for him.  Tomorrow, he would think about his responsibilities--to the King, to his father, to his brother, and to her, the wonderful creature in his arms.  Tomorrow.

***

Victoria watched the moon as it began its slow descent.  She held a now-sleeping Diego in her arms, and wondered if the words he had whispered earlier were true.  She thought they could be--they had seemed to flow from his mouth with no thought behind them.  Shivering in her arms, he had told her that he loved her.

Stroking his hair, Victoria decided that he had been serious.  There was no reason at all to play games with her; she had told him that first night that she made no demands and expected no promises.  He had no reason to lie or manipulate her, and Diego had already warned her earlier that he was leaving.

She could not understand this man.  He managed to steal her heart so quickly that she had doubted her feelings more than once.  Many men over the years, some honorable, some not, had tried to get her hand in marriage.  She yearned for a husband, but she wanted love more.  She had thought, for a few months, that Zorro might have been the man for her, but he had quickly shown himself to be someone she could not love.  Diego had appeared the same, too, until he put on that mask.

Then, the real him had shined through to her.  Looking up at him, seeing his laughing eyes, she realized that he was enjoying the reaction of the crowd.  Unlike the real Zorro, he was not enjoying _because_ of their reaction to him, but rather their joy and happiness had touched him.

Softly kissing his brow, she wondered again about his relationship with _Don _Alejandro.  When the _caballero_ walked into the room, Diego's reactions were always mixed.  She saw an admiration in his eyes, and an anger she could not understand, but there was also a yearning that broke her heart.  What he wanted from the other man, she could not be sure, but she knew that he coveted something from him.

Diego's voice broke through the silence, letting her know that he was awake.  "What was she like?"

"Who?"

"_Doña_ Elena," he finally answered.  "What was she like?  I--I talked to some of _Don_ Alejandro's friends before I came over, but I never asked another woman what she was like.  Most of his friends seemed to be half in love with her, but I know that sometimes men and women have different--opinions about people."

Victoria stroked his hair, thinking about what he was saying and what he was not.  His disagreement with _Don_ Alejandro had started long before he had arrived on this shore.  She longed to ask him, but she could not find the words or the courage.  Instead, she thought of a beautiful woman, dead long before her time.

"She was magnificent.  With her background--I guess you know that she was related to the King?"  Diego's nod was his only response.  "You would expect some very proper, very strict lady, but she was--Manners, liking tipping your hat for a lady and proper introduction, were important to her, but . . .."

Victoria laughed at an old memory.  "Once, when I was a little girl, she found me playing in a mud puddle.  I was horrified.  I didn't really know her, but I knew how my mother fretted about her--she always wanted us to look perfect when we were visiting the de la Vegas!"  Sighing, she allowed herself a moment of melancholy.  Often over the years, she had wanted an older female companion to talk to and get advice from, but she had very little in common with most of the women here.  _Doña _Elena and her mother would have been the only two women who could have understood her, and both of them had been taken from her too early.  What advice would they have given about Diego?  Follow her heart or her brain?

"It's sad, but it was the last year of _Doña _Elena's life that my mother finally understood that the _doña_ liked her for being _herself_.  She didn't have to act like someone she wasn't.  It was hard for Mama--watching someone that was so close to her wane into a ghost of herself."  Sniffing, she said, "Anyway, the _doña_ found me playing in that puddle, and she laughed.  Then, she jumped in and played with me."

Diego laughed with her.  They were both silent for a few minutes, thinking about women that were long gone from this world.  "Your mother sounds like a wonderful person."

Victoria hugged him close and let the tears fall down her face.  "She was.  I don't think she realized how strong of a woman she was until that year _Doña_ Elena got sick.  She helped _Don_ Alejandro take care of her.  My mother bloomed, even as she mourned.  I--I remember--"

Diego pulled away from her.  He tried to wipe away her pain by wiping away her tears.  She smiled at him and kissed his hand.  His eyes caressed her face, looking at the pain and the sadness there.  "I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I know, Diego.  But, it's good to cry sometimes."  Smiling and crying at the same time, she kept her eyes focused on him.  She struggled to remember every line, every plane, and every curve of his face.  Tomorrow, he would be leaving her and California forever.  "I remember how brave and strong she looked in front of the firing squad."

Diego jerked.  She watched, with amusement mixed with sadness, as he struggled to talk.  Taking pity on him, she shared the story of one day that forever changed the days after it.  "My mother chose to--She chose to be a good person instead of a good Spaniard.  People were hurt in the August Revolution, and she knew some healing arts, so she helped them."

Diego closed his eyes in understanding.  "I'm sorry."

Shaking her head, Victoria tried to find words to explain how she felt.  "Don't be.  She taught me something that I never forgot.  She showed me that there were things worse than death.  She believed in something, so she stood for it.  Death had no power over her that day."

Struggling to talk through her tears, she said, "I miss her, and I find it hard sometimes to be around you soldiers, but I _know,_ in my heart, that if life had been different, if she had made a different choice, she would have spent the rest of her life hating herself.  She wouldn't have been the woman she wanted to be."

Diego drew her close, making soft hushing noises.  "I understand, Victoria.  I really do.  I wish my--mother was that type of woman."  He drew her face up so he could look into her eyes.  "From how you describe her, I can see her in you.  She would be proud of you."

She reached up and kissed him.  He seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, even when she did not.  Victoria hoped that her mother would indeed be proud of her.  She had tried hard to follow in her large footsteps.  "Tell me about your mother," she whispered.

Diego shook his head.  "I don't think you want--"

"Yes, I do," she pleaded.  "I want to know everything about you."

She watched his inner struggle in his eyes.  He was not the kind of man used to sharing confidences, and she worried, for a moment, that he would refuse her request.  She smiled as he began to talk.  "My mother--For as long as I can remember, I've been taking care of her--"

Secrets never before shared were exchanged between the two lovers during the night.  Fond memories of childhood were laughed about and painful memories were cried over together.  Dawn was only a couple of hours away when they both fell into an exhausted sleep.


	13. The Confrontation

Diego tried, with little success, to wipe the sleep from his eyes

Diego tried, with little success, to wipe the sleep from his eyes.  Over the years, he had accepted it, as a part of his right as a customer, to have a hot meal waiting when he awoke.  Now, he thought it was a cruel demand.  His Uncle Felipe said it was always easier to look at someone else's life and not see the problems until you had lived it.  "I wish there was more I could do."  

Victoria turned from her fire and smiled.  "You've done more than enough.  I'm sorry I kept you up so late."  She sauntered over to where he stood and wrapped her arms around his neck.  "You know, you could always give up the life of a soldier and become an innkeeper instead."

Pulling her close, Diego smiled into her hair.  "I can't do that, Victoria."

"I know.  Just like you could not tell me the real reason you came to Los Angeles."

He pulled away from her.  Slowly, he caressed her face and wished life was different.  "If I could do that, Victoria, I could stay."

She looked down, obviously trying to hide her tears.  "Then, just say it."

"I would."  He hoped she could hear his pain; he wanted her to know that he did not _want_ to leave.  "But I can't.  It would hurt someone that I care for very much.  Maybe one day," he whispered.  She nodded, obviously as aware as he of how little the odds were of his return.

The sound of a coach driver yelling at his horses broke the silence.  Diego looked over his shoulder, and then back at Victoria.  "I'll go meet the customers."

"Thank you."  He could hear the tears in her voice.  

Forcing a smile on his face by sheer will, he walked out of the curtain dividing the kitchen from the main room of the tavern.  When he saw the pale, stiff woman standing there, his smile faltered.  Neither one spoke to one another, each starring at the other as if they were in a competition.  Finally, Diego smile became a smirk, and his voice found a cruel taunting quality that had been lost during the last few days.  "Well, it is a miracle!  Your doctors managed to bring you back from the edge of death, Mother."

Diego felt his muscles preparing for battle.  There was only one reason for Ynez Resendo to be here, and he was determined that she was going to be leaving sadly disappointed.  The son of _Don_ Alejandro de la Vega was not going to let her hurt the _caballero_, even if he had to be the one to bear the wounds from the battle himself.  After today, if he had his way, he and Ynez both would be showing battle scars.

Ynez's eyebrow arched, and Diego gritted his teeth.  This woman, who had stolen him from his family, had claimed to raise him as her own son, always seemed to hold the opinion that she was right and everyone else was wrong.  She never liked to be called on her mistakes, and usually she tried to find a way to blame them on someone else.  He was not surprised by her answer when she finally gave it.  "I was ill, but the doctor underestimated my will to live, my son."

He kept himself from flinching, barely.  "The doctors misdiagnosed your illness."  His tone was flat and as expressionless as his face.

A cool nod was his answer.  Before he could say anything else, Victoria entered the room and warmly greeted his mo--Ynez Resendo.  "I'll go and prepare--"

"Victoria," he interrupted.  "Can you wait a few minutes?  I'll escort the _señora _to her room.  You can bring the linens up in a little bit."  He saw a hundred questions in her eyes, and he gave a grateful smile when she did not ask one of them.  She nodded, turning back to walk into her kitchen.

The manners his uncle had ingrained in him forced him to offer to carry Resendo's bags for her.  Struggling with his thoughts, he slowly walked up the steps.  He knew what needed to be said, but old habits, years in the making, were screaming in protest at him.  He had taken care of her for so long, he was not sure he could be the one to hurt her.  Diego knew, however, that he had to get her away from Los Angeles and _Don_ Alejandro for good, and there was only one way to ensure that it happened.

Sitting down her bags, he turned to look at the woman he had called "Mother" for so long.  As he had expected, her eyes were full of disdain at the simple furnishings of the tavern.  He did not bother with the usual platitudes he usually mumbled to appease her.  "Tell me again," he ordered.

Ynez looked surprised by his tone, but then she had right to be.  He had never spoken that way to her before today.  She told him, with the timbre of someone telling a well-remembered story, and that was all it was--a story.  "After I helped your mother birth Gilberto, a few minutes after your birth, _Don_ Alejandro lifted him up and said this is my son, this is my heir."

"Why would he say such a cruel thing, Mother?"  He used to ask the question feeling a deep slash of pain inside of him.  Now, he felt anger and sadness.  

"You know why."  He could the worry on her face.  She was beginning to see that she had lost him.  "How many times do you need to hear it?"  

She turned to walk away from him.  Diego's hand on her arms prevented her from moving.  "I need to hear it again."  He needed to be sure that the story was the same, that there was no possibility of misunderstanding.  

"You were born first, but your legs were misshapen," she hissed.  "I tried to tell them that it was nothing to worry about--"

"But they wouldn't believe you."

Ynez nodded, yanking her arm away as she turned from him.  "No," she said angrily, as if she actually believed the lie she was proclaiming.  "God forbid that _Don_ Alejandro should be ashamed of a deformed child bearing the de la Vega name.  He was going to put you away into an institution that took care of such children.  That very night I took you away.  I left Madrid so that they would never find us.  I brought you up as my own."

Diego sat on her bed in silence.  What he was about to say would forever end his family as he knew it, but he could not ignore the truth.  "You stole me, you mean.  My father was not even there the day we were born."

Ynez's lips twisted.  "Where did you hear such a ridiculous story?  Did you listen to his lies?"

Shaking his head sadly, Diego managed to smile.  "No, I never told him.  It got brought up by accident one day, and I managed to finally learn why _Don_ Alejandro left the army he loved so much."  He stood as he rubbed his hands though his hair.  "You drugged my mother and then stole me from her."

He looked at her trying to see some regret, some speck of compassion on her face, but he found none.  There was only cold anger.  "What did they do to you?"  He thought of her earlier letter.  "What humiliation did you receive at the hands of my father?  Did he yell at you one day?  Tell you that you should be doing you job?  What did he do?"  

He wanted to shake her.  He wanted something to smash against the wall.  He wanted answers that he would never get.  Sighing sadly, he sank back down to the bed.  "Leave Los Angeles."

"Why should I do that?  Just because you failed--"

"Leave Los Angeles or spend the rest of your miserable life in jail.  I'll make sure you go there for stealing me from them if you dare to hurt him.  You got your revenge.  Now leave."  He thought he almost saw a flash of pain in her eyes, but it was gone so fast he could not be sure.  He handed her the bag he had just carried up for her.  "The coach hasn't left, yet.  Be on it."

Grabbing it from his hands, she spat, "I never want to see you again."

Diego wished he could be sad at her loss, but he felt a great relief instead.  "Why should I come see you?  You are nothing more than a thief who took me from my mother and father."

He watched her lips twist again and realized it was for the last time.  "Do you really believe that _Don_ Alejandro would have taken as good of care of you as I did?"

"You _never_ took care of me.  _I_ always took care of _you_."  Ynez's spine stiffened.  She turned and nearly knocked down a stunned Victoria.  Diego could tell by the look on the tavern owner's face that she had heard too much, and he knew he could never leave here now without telling her everything.

***

Diego nervously paced the de la Vega gardens.  Victoria, still showing signs of shock from his earlier revelations, was sitting quietly in a chair.  He hoped this visit would help convince her to leave with him in a few hours.  He had ordered all of his men to prepare for the journey, as well as the _alcalde_.  Diego was taking him back to Madrid to face numerous charges.  They were here because she had protested that he was acting as if he knew for sure that Gilberto would be unable to handle the idea of a twin living in the _pueblo_.  He had not answered, but he knew his brother well enough to _know_ the answer to a question not yet asked.

He saw the jealousy and the anger in Gilberto's eyes the moment the man walked out into the garden.  "I'm sorry I took so long.  I was just getting ready for the day when Felipe came to tell me that you were here."  He hesitated for a moment, and then with his eyes focused on Victoria, he casually dropped a piece of information that showed he had been awake much longer than he was claiming.  "I hear that you are leaving our fair _pueblo_, _Don_ Diego."

Diego's eyes met with Victoria's for a moment.  "That depends on you."

Gilberto's eyes finally left Victoria's face.  "On me?"

"Yes, on you," Diego answered, nervously shifting.  "Perhaps we could talk about it in private."  He motioned with his hands that they walk farther out into the garden.  Gilberto looked at Victoria who simply nodded.  Her eagerness was obvious to Diego, and he had little doubt that Gilberto could see it, too.

They had walked a little piece when Diego finally spoke.  "I have a confession."

"Oooh, a confession!  Sounds interesting," Gilberto mocked.  _More interesting than you think, my brother_. 

"I did not come to Los Angeles only to collect taxes."  Diego sensed the sudden tension in the man walking beside him, and then he realized that Gilberto thought he was in Los Angeles to capture Zorro.  "I came to destroy your father."

They stopped walking.  Gilberto's face was still wearing the mocking sneer that it usually wore.  "Really?  And what would you have against him?"

Diego struggled to find the words.  He would rather be facing a thousand Frenchmen right now, but he had made a promise.  Against his will, his eyes scanned the garden until they rested on Victoria.  Gilberto was going to have to accept that she loved him instead.  "I hated him for abandoning me, for refusing to admit that I was his son."

Gilberto laughed.  "You're his son, too?  I would never have thought it of the Old Man.  He's always talking honor and responsibility.  The makings for an interesting conversation."  Diego remembered a young boy being raised by his mother alone, because of Gilberto's irresponsibility.  He would not let his brother dare think that of their father. 

"I'm afraid you're mistaken.  The 'Old Man' is nothing like that."  He took a deep breath and forced the words out of his mouth.  "My Mo--the woman who _raised_ me as her son was a woman by the name of Ynez Resendo.  Have you ever heard the name?"  Diego thought he saw recognition in Gilberto's eyes, but the man shook his head.  

"She was your moth--our mother's midwife.  She had always told me that I was first born, that my leg was twisted, that Father declared you his heir because I was deformed."

Gilberto's rage was sudden and extreme.  "You lying son of--"

"I am not lying!"  Diego's anger met his.  He had come to Los Angeles in hopes of finding a brother he could admire.  Instead, he met Gilberto.  "I don't particularly care if you believe me or not.  I'm here because I made a promise to ask if you could stand to see me living here."  

Gilberto's snort of disdain was answer enough.  Diego's looked back at Victoria and gave a reassuring smile.  She had told him that if had least made the effort to ask, she would pack and leave Los Angeles with him.  He wished they could marry and live here in this wonderful _pueblo_ and with the amazing people who lived here, but life had deemed it unworkable.

"She loves you," Gilberto said softly, too softly for Diego's liking.

"Yes, she does, and I love her."  He treasured how easily the words now came to his lips.

The click of a pistol being cocked was his only warning.  He turned to find Gilberto pointing the pistol straight at his head, his intentions obvious.  "You can't have her."

"Gilberto!"  Diego flinched when he heard _Don _Alejandro's voice come from behind the wall.  He moved his eyes to see the man, covered in dust, the shears in his hands revealing that he had been pruning some plants on the other side.  There was no way he could have missed hearing what Diego shared with his son.

"Stay out of this, Father.  It is none of your concern."  

_Don_ Alejandro's pain and joy were obvious in his words.  "None of my concern?  Gilberto, he is your brother."

The tears shimmering in Gilberto's eyes surprised Diego.  "The kind of son that you always wanted.  Right, Father?  Somehow, no matter how hard I tried, I was never good enough."  Diego's heart raced as he heard the soft footsteps approaching him from behind.  Victoria, as usual, was racing to where angels feared to tread.  

"I was never good enough for you, either, was I, Victoria?  I was always just below your notice, never reaching that impossible standard that you set, but he was.  Somehow, he was deemed better than me."

"Gilbe--"

"No!" he yelled.  "I will not spend my life being second best to him!  I have always _tried_ and you all never gave me a chance.  I put on that mask--" Victoria's gasp mingled with _Don _Alejandro's, letting Diego know that they had never guessed Zorro's identity.  "To get your respect, but even then I was not good enough."


	14. Mourning

Outside the garden wall, Ignacio DeSoto arrived to steal a horse

Outside the garden wall, Ignacio DeSoto arrived to steal a horse.  It was a hanging offense, but at the moment, he did not care.  _Don_ Alejandro had the finest horse--outside of Toronado--in the territory, and he needed it to get away from that horrible emissary.  He patted the wonderful white coat of the horse and murmured to his ride.  The territory was going to be much better than being dragged through the streets of Madrid, humiliated by Resendo and the jeering crowd.

He heard Gilberto shouting, and his curiosity overcame his desire to flee.  He looked through the archway and was stunned to see his friend holding a pistol to the emissary's head.  There was a part of him that felt glee at the man's situation, but the soldier in him resisted--he had a duty to protect the emissary.  He almost turned away, but then he realized this was his chance.  He could save Resendo and the man would be forced to declare him a hero to the King!

DeSoto lifted his own pistol.  Walking towards his friend, he hollered a warning.  "Drop the pistol, Gilberto!"  

No one moved.  He carefully walked so that he was in front of Gilberto.  He could not understand the rage, the pain, on the man's face, but he doubted the young de la Vega heir wanted to be hanged for shooting an emissary.  The man was aggravating, true, but Gilberto had no real reason to kill him that DeSoto could see.  Resendo was obviously unarmed, and Victoria was standing next to him.  

"Gilberto, drop the pistol!"  He had expected his friend to immediately toss down his weapon and beginning laughing, but something deep inside him started to fear that might have to shoot his friend after all.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can, Gilberto," DeSoto pleaded--ordered.

Gilberto shook his head.  "You won't shoot me, Ignacio," he said with an arrogance that surprised DeSoto.

"He won't have a choice, Gilberto," the emissary murmured.

Gilberto laughed.  "Do you really expect him to shoot _me?  _To protect _you_?"

DeSoto felt the sweat pouring down his back.  Gilberto was _loco_--that was the only explanation; he was not thinking clearly.  "Gilberto, I _won't_ have a choice," he whispered through clenched teeth.

"See, Gilberto," Resendo said with only a hint of anger in his voice.  "He knows _Don _Alejandro and Victoria better than you do.  They won't lie to protect you or him."

Gilberto's eyes were wild.  "Father wouldn't let me go to jail."

"Gilberto," the old _caballero_ finally spoke.  "I will not let you murder a man in cold blood either!  Put down the pistol."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Victoria putting her hand on Diego's arm.  The sight seemed to enrage Gilberto even more.  What was going on here?  DeSoto felt like he had walked out into the middle of a battlefield armed with only a cup of tea.  "I won't let him steal what is mine!"

"I was never yours to begin with," she snapped.  DeSoto almost groaned.  Most men seemed to have little common sense when it came to women, and he doubted Gilberto was any different.

Resendo's voice now seemed to be pleading.  "I don't want anything of yours, Gilberto.  I only wanted to let you know."

Gilberto finally lowered his gun to the relief of everyone.  "Do you really believe _he_ will let you leave now?"  He nodded his head in the direction of _Don _Alejandro.  "You should hear how talked about you before today.  He said his instincts told him that your were an _honorable_ man, even though your actions seemed to go against it.  Do you have any idea how much of a compliment that is?  How often I yearned to hear him say that to me?  Do you?"

Suddenly, he turned and began walking back to the house.  DeSoto's own gut screamed at him that something was wrong, but he did not know why.  _Don _Alejandro's face was bright with a relieved smile.  Victoria was laughing and hugging Resendo close.  Gilberto, however, looked--defeated, like a man with nothing left to lose.  

He watched, horrified, as the man's shoulders slowly straightened with a new resolve, sensing what the change meant.  He wanted to shout out a warning, and he struggled to find the words to stop Gilberto's desperate action.  Instead, he found himself doing what he had to do, what he had been trained to do.  As his friend rotated, DeSoto lifted his own weapon.

The sound of a pistol discharging destroyed the peaceful quietness of the de la Vega garden.  DeSoto sank to his knees as he watched his friend fall to the ground, his white shirt turning red.  Resendo reached him first.  He grabbed Gilberto's hand.  "Why?"  

"I have _always_," he heard Gilberto gasp as Resendo tried desperately to stop the flow of blood.  "Lived in your shadow."

_Don _Alejandro reached the side of his son, and he stumbled to his knees.  "I never even knew about--"

Gilberto's laugh was filled with pain, both physical and emotional.  "He was the _honorable _son you always wanted, but you got me instead.  Somehow, deep inside, you always knew that I was the _wrong_ son."

DeSoto forced himself to stand.  He began to walk to the fallen man he had always considered a friend.  "I love you, Gilberto," _Don_ Alejandro whispered.

"I know you do, but it wasn't enough for me," Gilberto whispered.  "It all seems so clear now.  Don't be so upset, Father; it was meant to be," he gasped with his last breath.  DeSoto cried as he saw the life leave Gilberto's eyes.

***

He thought it should be raining.  It felt wrong that, on the day of his son's funeral, the sun was shining brightly overhead in a crisp blue sky.  The entire _pueblo_ had turned out for the burial, but _Don_ Alejandro knew that it was more out of respect for him than for Gilberto.  His son had been right in many ways; the people of Los Angeles had never embraced him.  But, then, he had never accepted them either.

As the _padre_ read the rites, he looked over at his once-lost son, remembering a conversation he had with his wife many years ago.  "It almost feels like we were given the wrong son," Elena had tried to say as a joke that failed.  Looking down at their sleeping baby in the crib, he had understood exactly what she was saying and what she was not.  Gilberto had been right; he had lived is life in the shadow of a brother no one even knew he had.  Without even suspecting Diego's existence, _Don _Alejandro had searched for him in Gilberto and had found him to be lacking.  _Don_ Alejandro would not share that secret with Diego; the man already bore too much self-inflicted guilt for the death of his brother.

Victoria also shared in Diego's guilt, and nothing either of the de la Vegas said seemed to help lessen her belief that she was responsible for the events that led to Gilberto's death.  Maybe with her, he would share his secret.  Gilberto had said that it was finally all clear to him, that it was meant to be, and _Don_ Alejandro's heart, bleeding with grief, also felt the rightness of Diego's presence in Los Angeles.  He, unlike Gilberto, loved the land and the people, and they were quickly embracing him as the long-lost son.  _Don_ Alejandro and DeSoto were the only people truly mourning the loss of Gilberto.

After his brother's death, Diego began showing the people of Los Angeles what a great leader he could be.  He quickly handled all the arrangements for the funeral; informed the public what had happened; efficiently organized the soldiers and sent them on patrol (since DeSoto had forgotten to give any orders the last few days about job responsibilities); and he had organized his own troops, in preparation for their leaving today.  Without him.

In his place would be DeSoto.  Diego told his father, in confidence, that he was sending a letter to the King with Corporal Figueroa.  In the message were the details leading up to the death of Julian and a list of DeSoto's many crimes against the people of Los Angeles.  He had admitted that it was possible that King, overwhelmed with gratitude for the delivery of the tax money, would simply ignore the problems and reward DeSoto instead.  "I can't find it inside myself to care much right now.  DeSoto will get what is coming to him eventually, but I've made a life out of wanting revenge.  I don't want to look for it anymore, and I know what Julian would tell me to do," Diego confessed late last night.

The service was almost over now.  The dirt felt cold in his hands.  Slowly, he opened his fingers and let the dirt fall through them.  The sound of it hitting the pine casket seemed incredibly loud.  He silently said his final good-byes and his last apologies for not being the father his son needed him to be.  He could think of no other way to be, but he wished somehow he had been able to touch Gilberto's soul.  Maybe, if he had, he could be the proud father of two sons today.


	15. Discussion of Fate

Victoria leaned heavily against the door, exhaustion finally overtaking her

Victoria leaned heavily against the door, exhaustion finally overtaking her.  It had been an incredibly long day.  The funeral alone had drained her.  Fortunately, Anna Maria and Theresa had been there to help wait on the large crowd that had filled the tavern afterwards.  

Most of the mourners had stayed late at Victoria's, all for various reasons.  Some of them simply wanted to hear all the gossip, while others wanted to be there for _Don_ Alejandro.  Some wanted to be there to watch the royal lancers prepare to leave with DeSoto, while others wanted to keep an eye on the emissary.  He had, after all, shown himself to be moody, in their opinions.  Today, the tavern had been filled with laughter, tears, pain, and joy.  Waiting on such a large crowd was usually rough, but the emotional intensity in the room had made it far more difficult.

Then, there had been the long talk with _Don_ Alejandro behind her tavern.  For over an hour, they had sat on the dusty porch, drank small glasses of wine, and mourned the loss of a man.  Gilberto had always been an enigma to her, and she was discovering he had been one to his father as well.  Knowing that he was Zorro only made the puzzle even more difficult to solve, and both of them knew, deep in their hearts, that they would never understand why he made the decision he did.

_Don_ Alejandro had also spent time talking to her about responsibility and accepting guilt that was not her own.  Victoria had tried to explain that she was the reason that Diego had tried to talk to Gilberto, but the _caballero_ had refused to hear it.  "It was meant to be, Victoria," he had said.  "You heard Gilberto say it, and I believe it is true.  Some things in life are just meant to be and, no matter what choices we make, they will happen."  Victoria was not sure she agreed with him, but she did not protest.  He was busy trying to find his own way of handling his grief and guilt, and maybe it was for the best that he felt that way.

Victoria stumbled her way back into her kitchen, dragging one tired foot in front of the other.  She looked around the room and decided that tonight her kitchen would not receive the usual thorough cleaning.  Tomorrow was Sunday, and while everyone came before Church for companionship and something to quench their thirst, no one expected a meal.  She would clean it before she began fixing tomorrow's afternoon dishes.

"You look like you are asleep on your feet," a familiar voice said from behind her back.  She felt the customary warmth that the man inspired flooding through her body.  She did so love his voice.

Feeling a new surge of energy, Victoria turned, only to stop in surprise.  Instead of the uniform of a soldier, he was once again wearing the black outfit of Zorro.  He looked down at himself, almost self-consciously.  "I'm sorry.  I felt like taking a ride, and Toronado is the best horse in the territory.  No one knew who--"

She finished walking over to him, putting her finger over her lips to tell him to be quiet.  He wrapped his arms around her, and she felt an urge to laugh from the sheer joy of it.  Gone were all her fears and concerns about this man.  Her heart had been right; his heart was good.  He, like her, had been reacting to old fears and hurts.

"You look wonderful in that outfit," she murmured.  Diego's laughed, embarrassed.  She pulled away from him some and ran a critical eye back over his body.  "No, you really do.  It looks like it was tailor-made to fit you."

Diego gently caressed her check with his glove-encased hand.  They both knew whom the outfit had been measured for, and neither was willing to say his name right now.  "Would you go riding with me?"

Her earlier exhaustion forgotten, she nodded.  Any excuse to be held by this man would be used.  Smiling, he led her out the back door.  Toronado stood there, patiently waiting for them in the moonlight.  She had never seen the stallion this close before, and it was easy to forget sometimes how truly magnificent he was.  

Diego mounted first, easily pulling her up into the saddle in front of him.  Noticing how easy Toronado took his new master's commands, when he had ignored most of Gilberto's, made her think of _Don_ Alejandro's earlier comments.  "Do you believe in fate?"

The sound of Toronado's hoofs hitting the ground filled the silence between the two humans.  Finally, Diego answered.  "I don't know.  Not really, I guess.  I believe we make our own choices, and I believe we always have the right to make those choices."

"But?"  Victoria asked, hearing it in his tone, if not his words.

He laughed.  "Sometimes, it seems like some paths are made easier for our feet to follow.  We don't have to, and I can tell you for myself, I've often chosen the harder route, but I'm not sure I'd call that fate."

Victoria nodded, understanding his mixed feelings.  It felt so right that he was here in Los Angeles.  It even felt right that he was dressed in that outfit.  She just was not sure that he was "fated" to be Zorro.  Maybe, if people had made different choices, he would have been Zorro.  They would already be married and everyone would be wondering who that handsome masked man was.  She would not be fooled for a minute, though, knowing at first sight that it was Diego.

She sighed.  "I guess there is no reason for Zorro anymore."

Hugging her close, he whispered into her ear.  "I wouldn't say that, _Señorita_.  The soldiers still are not prepared to handle the bandit problem this _pueblo_ has been plagued with over the years.  While I'm acting _commendante_, I'll work to get them prepared and, at night, I'll work to take care of some of the rougher elements."

She shivered, thinking of him fighting the bandits alone.  She knew he was right, and a part of her was excited by the idea of a handsome hero that was all hers.  However, she also understood the danger he was putting himself into both day and night.  The soldiers could not avoid _all_ problems during the day as they trained.

"I'll be fine," he said, obviously sensing her fear.

She smiled.  "I know you will be." 

She realized that they were heading towards the de la Vega _hacienda_ at the same time Diego spoke again.  "Victoria, I--I was thinking.  Everyone I talked to has said that Felipe is very much a part of the de la Vega family, and I believe Father wanted to adopt him once, but Gilberto was against it."

She nodded.  It was of the most selfish things Gilberto had done, in her opinion.  "Well, anyway, I was thinking that maybe _I_ could adopt Felipe."

She stiffened in surprise, and turned so that she could partially see him.  "_You_ want to adopt Felipe?"

"He deserves a part of the de la Vega inheritance, and I think he would make a wonderful son," he finally answered, sadness in his voice.

Her grin covered her entire face.  "I think that's wonderful, Diego!"

"You do?"  She could hear the relief and the happiness in his words.

"Yes!  I think that's gr--" She stopped speaking when the rock in front of Toronado suddenly started moving.  "Uh, Diego--"

He laughed.  "My grandfather, apparently, was a very frightened man.  I'll have to ask Father about it, but this cave has a secret entrance into the house.  G-Gilberto was using it.  It's a wonderful place, really.  I'm planning on using it as my laboratory."

She jumped down from Toronado's back, eager to look around this secret world.  She had never suspected that the de la Vega hacienda had a place like this in it.  "Diego, this is wonderful!"

His laughter joined hers.  "Yes, I think it is, too."

She turned to look at him, laughter still on her face and in her eyes.  "I'm glad you brought me here, shared this with me."

He suddenly got extremely quiet, and she noticed he was biting his lower lip.  "Victoria," he said, pulling a large chair away from a desk.  "Please have a seat."

Nervous, she sat down, hoping that he did not have bad news to share with her.  As he reached into his sash, he sank down to his knee.  She could hear his breathing echoing in the cave.  "Victoria," he said, showing her a ring that he had pulled from the sash.  Ring?  What a minute . . ..

"Will you marry me?"

Victoria knew she looked like a fish, opening and closing her mouth.  She had not expected this, not now, maybe not ever.  He was the son of a _caballero_, one of the wealthiest men in all of California.  She was a tavern owner, hardly the quality a _caballero_ looked for in a wife.  

"Don't you even think it!"  She flinched in surprise.  Diego's voice echoed back at her from the cave's walls.  "Victoria Escalate, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and not talking about your skin or your hair or your eyes--although, I do very much enjoy looking at those!  I'm talking about your soul, and don't let anyone cause you to doubt the fact you are a truly remarkable woman.  Now, are you going to marry me, or do I have to tie you up down here until I get the answer I want?"

She laughed, tears streaming down her face.  "You love me."

Tears filled his eyes.  "With all my heart and soul, Victoria.  Now, say 'yes'."

"Yes."

He kissed her, hard.  "I don't suppose I can expect any other order to be followed that easily can I?"

She shook her head, still smiling and crying at the same time.  "Oh, no, _Señor_ de la Vega.  I'm not that type of girl."

"I know," he whispered between soft kisses.  "I wouldn't have it any other way.  You helped me to see a better me."

She hugged him tight.  "Before you came to Los Angeles, I was beginning to think that justice was only a fairy tale for adults.  Now, I know that justice can be slow, but it always wins the game.  You showed me a better world, Diego."

He began to kiss her passionately.  "Mm-mmm."  Someone else was in the cave clearing his throat.  As Diego pulled away from her, they both turned to see a smiling _Don_ Alejandro and Felipe standing at the cave's passage to the _hacienda_.  "I thought I had given you enough time, Son."

Diego's smile was unabashed.  "Yes, I guess you did.  We were just on our way to see you."

"Oh," _Don_ Alejandro answered.  "It looked like it."  She could see a hint of a smile on his face.  He was enjoying their embarrassment, the old fraud.  He turned to look at her, suddenly very serious.  "Well, Victoria, are you going to honor me by agreeing to become my daughter-in-law?"

She felt her old fears welling inside of her again, but she forced them down by remembering Diego's words.  She would make him the best wife.  "Yes, _Señor, _I'm going to marry him."

"Good.  Then, I think it's best that we leave Diego down here to change.  We have a lot of planning to do before you can enjoy your wedding night."  Victoria smiled.  She knew that Diego would not get more than five minutes alone with her from now until the ceremony; his father would see to that.

Looking back at Diego, Victoria walked up the arm of her future father-in-law.  "Are you really happy about it, Felipe?  Can you see me as your mother?"  His grin was enough answer for her.  She looked to the man whose arm she now held.  "Are you really happy about it, _Don_ Alejandro?"  She worried about his opinion almost as much as Diego's.  He had been like a father to her for so many years.

"Happy?  No, I'm not happy, Victoria.  That word is far too mild a word for the joy I'm feeling, knowing that you will be my daughter by law as well as by love."  He pulled her close as the walked into the passage.  "You know, Victoria, I'm thinking that this is also something that is meant to be."

She could hear Diego's soft laughter joining her own as she walked into the de la Vega hacienda.  Maybe _Don_ Alejandro did have a point about fate.  She felt like she was home, right where she belonged.


End file.
